


We'll Meet Again

by castlealbion



Category: Dunkirk (2017)
Genre: Angst, Battle of Britain, Drama & Romance, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Graphic Depictions of Battle, Romance, The Blitz, WWII
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-20
Updated: 2018-11-28
Packaged: 2019-01-20 07:52:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 11
Words: 34,009
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12428256
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/castlealbion/pseuds/castlealbion
Summary: Collins meets a girl after the Dunkirk evacuation but can they are separated by the Blitz and the ongoing war.





	1. We'll Meet Again

**Author's Note:**

> The events are all set after the events of the movie. There will be romance of course but mostly angst. I was writing this on the anniversary of my Dad and sisters deaths so its coming from a pretty dark place. That should be taken as fair warning. My great uncle was an RAF pilot during WW2 so some of what I’m getting is stories from his letters home. (He was shot down in July of 41)
> 
> Descriptions of battle and bombings.
> 
> I listened to ALOT of Vera Lynn and the Andrews Sisters while writing this. Particularly We’ll Meet Again and It Hurts to Say Goodbye.

The sirens woke you, the terrifying screech and wail of them inspiring paralyzing dread. There had been drills, of course. Ever since the Dunkirk fiasco you had all be trained in what to do when the time came.

You felt cold as you jumped out of bed, pushing your feet into the shoes you kept by the bed for this very purpose. It had been strongly suggested that you sleep either clothed or in men’s pyjamas, all the women in the boarding house had been told this, but as far as you knew, very few of the shrinking violets you shared the house with could bear the thought.

More fool them, you thought as you pulled a man’s overcoat over your pyjamas and grabbed the leather case from beside the door. Everything you cared about in the world was inside it, anything else could burn.

The hallway outside your room was chaos, but much less than you had feared. A few girls cried and looked around in confusion, but most of them were simply walking toward the stairs, the fear and urgency thick in the air. You made it to the first floor quickly and out into the street. People were everywhere, the sirens screeching around you and for a brief moment you felt the panic rising in your throat.

The darkness seemed oppressive as you hurried your way to your designated air raid shelter, the barrage balloons and their almost sinister hissing mixing with the sirens and terrified voices in a cacophony of menace and terror.

But at least the streets had air.

The tube station that you descended into was hot with stale air and the press of bodies. Men and women with Red Cross insignias were busy directing people to cots and blankets, stations with bread and jam, and of course tea.

You chuckled to yourself at the sight. Never had you seen anything more british than hot tea being served in underground tunnels while bombs were being dropped on the city overhead. Only if they stopped serving tea would you know that the british Empire was truly doomed.

“Y/N!” 

You heard a call from the far corner of the station and saw a group of women from the factory you worked at.

“Here, we saved you a spot.”  
You sat on a cot gratefully, propping your case by your feet as you sipped your tea.

The first time the walls shuddered, you almost didn’t notice it, but you did feel the sudden change in the air. The second one was certainly noticed and a few people screamed as dirt tricked from the ceiling as the whole area shuddered.

“God, they’re really doing it, aren’t they?” Dolores whispered.

“It was inevitable, after Dunkirk, the Jerrys are sure they have us on the run.” Margot pointed out.

“They came close.” you murmured. “They almost broke us.”

“But they didn’t.” Della smiled. “We got our boys home and we’ll keep fighting. Hitler will never win.”

“What does that man of yours have to say about it, Y/N?”

“He’s not ‘my man’ “ you huffed. “And he can’t say anything about it, they aren’t allowed to.”

“Doesn’t mean they don’t though.” Dolores said meaningfully.

“All he said was that they were sure Britain was going to be bombarded and that we should be prepared.”

“Is this the pilot who writes to you?” This from Violet, the youngest at 17, her beau off fighting in the French trenches.

You nodded in the affirmative, noticing the dark look that Margot was sending you all.

“I told you that was a mistake Y/N. You can’t get attached to any of them.”

“I’m not attached, Margot, he just wanted a friend, that’s all.”

“I’ll bet you a quid you have all his letters in that case right there, full of the things you can’t live without.”

You flushed, knowing she was right.

“He’s only written a few letters Margot. These boys just need to know that there’s people at home rooting for them to make it.”

“And when they don’t make it? What happens then? To those letters and your heart? How are you going to survive if he doesn’t come home?”

“Margot!”

“No, Della, its ok. Margot, I understand. To me it’s worth it, he has no one else, I couldn’t let him go back to war without someone to hold onto. Besides, you didn’t see his face when he walked off that boat.”

“Just don’t say I didn’t warn you.” Margot whispered, moving off to get some tea.

“What’s her deal then?” Violet hissed.

“Her man didn’t make it home, his ship was sunk in January. She got his last letter a few days after she got the news.”

“Oh.”

There was silence as you all thought of your loved ones. Dolores’ son was High Command and safe, but the decisions he had to make were eating him alive. Della had sent her kids to her parent’s farm in Wales for safety and she missed them like crazy. Violet’s sweetheart was in constant danger and her fear for him showed on her face, no matter how much she smiled.

You’d had no one to worry for, not really. Acquaintances, the men of women you knew.

Until Dunkirk. Until Collins.

Leaning back on your cot you wrapped an arm around Vi as she whimpered, each bomb strike raining dirt down on the masses huddled in the hole. Your thoughts wandered to that night, only a few months ago when all the boats had docked, carrying the weary soldiers from that beach. You would never forget the eerie silence as they all trudged toward the waiting trains, collecting blankets and food for the rest of their journey. All their eyes were haunted, the horrors they had witnesses something you couldn’t even comprehend.

Then you had seen him, standing on the dock beside the Moonstone, watching as a body was brought off on a stretcher. His blonde hair was shock bright against the dingy green and brown of the soldiers around him, the yellow of his life vest and blue RAF uniform marking him as different from the rest.

“Where the bloody hell were you?” a soldier yelled at him and he winced, his face that of a man who carried the weight of the world.

“They know where you were son.” A civilian, the captain of the boat gestured to the group now disembarking.

You watched the blonde man nod wearily before turning away.

He looked lost, broken and unbearably young.

The blankets your group were handing out went quickly, to soldiers, boys mostly, with blank stares walking past you in a daze. Nothing was said, it didn’t need to be. What could anyone say to them that would make any of it alright?

The RAF man still stood in the same spot, looking around without really seeing.

The lorry you had driven from London sat behind you, your friend Margot had been frantic to be here when the boats landed and the 3 hour journey had been easy enough. Your factory owner had offered the blankets and there were few men left in London who really drove anymore. The drive home was going to be a lot more difficult, exhaustion and the sheer sadness of what you were witnessing was weighing heavily on you. Perhaps you could take Margot’s parents up on their offer of a room for the night.

“Hey! Anyone got transport to London? Got a lad here needs taken to RAF Uxbridge.”

“I have a lorry!” you called out instantly, knowing that all the supplies had been unloaded.

The Captain of the Moonstone walked over to you, the young man shuffling far behind him.

“Thank you Miss, no one else here came from London or there’s nothing else available. The trains are taking the other men to the North.”

“It’s not a thing, I’m glad to help out.”

There was a blanket on the table still and you snatched it as you walked past.

“Margot, I’m taking this man to Uxbridge. Do you want to come with me now or stay with your parents?”

“I’m staying on here a few days. Be safe though, ok. Give the poor bastard some of this.” she pulled a flask from her garter. “I’m done with it for today.”

You shared a look of understanding before turning toward your truck. The man stood there, head down as he shuffled his boots in the gravel.

“Hi there.” You said gently as you approached. “I’m Y/N, I’m going to drive you back to the base.”

“Collins.” he stuck out a hand awkwardly for you to shake. “Can ye tell me…..are there any more boats?”

You remembered the way he’d stood, watching as the soldiers milled past. He was looking for someone.

“No, there’s no more.” If possible, he looked even sadder and you had to take a breath to calm the break in your voice. “There were some that landed at Southampton I heard.”

You tried to sound hopeful, but you knew the chances of him finding what he was looking for were slim.

In silence you both got in the lorry, Collins wrapping the blanket around his shoulders and taking a long swallow of the whiskey. As you drove out of Weymouth you wanted to say something, anything but Collins had fallen asleep against the window, his face boyish and astonishingly handsome at rest. He couldn’t be any more than 20, if that, same as you. To have gone through so much so young….you felt anger, anger at the war and at the countries who sacrificed boys to fight and die for them.

Dawn was breaking when Collins woke up with a start, blue eyes darting about for a few moments before reality hit. He let out a breath, looking at you.

“So it really happened?”

“Yes.” you murmured.

“Was hopin, ye know, tha maybe it was just a bad dream.”  
“I wish it had been.”

“I couldna help them, there was so little time. And then….” he broke off, biting his bottom lip. “I shoulda done more.”

“You did the best you could, all of you and that was enough. You made it home.”

“No all of us.”

“Your friend? The one you were looking for at the harbour?”

“Farrier. Flew wi’ me, trained me up.”

He told you the story then, of the fighting over the channel, of getting shot down, his rescue and the knowledge that Farrier saving their lives had left him unable to make it back across. You were crying by the end of it, unconcerned with the tears streaming down your cheeks. Neither of you could say what you were both thinking - that Farrier was very likely dead.

“Can ye stop fer a minute?”

You pulled the lorry off the road beside a paddock of late spring wildflowers. Collins walked behind some trees and reappeared a few minutes later standing in the center of the flowers, his combat uniform so out of place with the beauty of the sunrise. The ugliness of war juxtaposed with such a demonstration of life. You saw hope, standing in that paddock, hope and possibility, and the end of these horrors.

Your face had been wiped clean when Collins climbed back into the truck, but your eyes were red and puffy and you knew you were pale a drawn from exhaustion.

“Donnae cry lass, in this war once ye start ye’ll never stop. Let a lad fresh home from the front enjoy the smile of a pretty girl.”

He smiled at you then and you felt your heart thud into your feet. Collins’ smile was one that simply lit him up and you felt your lips spread in response.

“There ye go. There’s too much ugly in the world now, man needs some beauty from time te time.”

The base at Uxbridge was only a few kilometers away when you asked Collins about his family. Once he got to talking there was no stopping him. He was a man who loved his parents and had seen nothing outside the Scottish borders and the Highlands until he’d volunteered.

You were discovering that you genuinely liked him, and not because you felt bad for him.

“Would ye mind if I wrote to ye?” he said, as you pulled up to the gates. “I cannae burden me ma and da wi any of this, they worry so much already. Would ye maybe write me back, about everyday things so I donnae feel so out o touch?”

You didn’t even have to think about it. You took the pencil and paper from the middle seat and wrote down your address, tearing off a piece so he could do the same.

“Ye promise, right? Ye promise that ye’ll write to me.”

“I promise. I’ll start tonight.”

You watched him walk through the gates, turning to wave before he was met and escorted away.

You kept your promise.

The sound of a bomb falling close by startled you from your memories. Vi still lay beside you and Margot now sat at the foot of your cot.

“Forget what I said ok. You hold onto every moment, every memory. It’s worth it.”

Tears pricking at your eyes, you reached out and pulled margot to you, the three of you holding one another, united in the grief and fear you felt for the men you loved.


	2. I'll Be Seeing You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Blitz is in full swing and Collins is right in the thick of the fighting. But there's a bright spot and hope is what wins wars.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some small mentions of bombings and the like. A little bright spot before things start to go to shit.

After the war was over they would call it ‘The Blitz’, the incessant day and night bombings carried out over Britain by Hitler’s Luftwaffe. It seemed as though the sirens were constantly shrieking and the sickening dread had cast a pall over the city of London. In the five days since the attacks had begun on the cities there had been nothing but fear, screaming and the constant smell of burning buildings.

You and the others had ceased going to the Underground shelter, more than half your time was spent in the basement of the boarding house or the shelter near the factory. There had been talk of a Tube station being flooded during a bombing and everyone in there drowning. You would take your chances with a collapsed building. None of you had slept in your beds since that first night, even though, so far, nothing had fallen close to your neighbourhood. The factory was a target you knew, you manufactured munitions for the army. It was really only a matter of time.

Every day there were fighter planes in formation over the city, reports of aerial battles taking place all over. There had been heavy bombing of RAF stations in August which had left you worried sick for Collins until every letter arrived announcing him unharmed. Often while you were outside, you saw Spitfires flying over and waved, wondering if he was in one of them. His last letter had arrived the day the bombings started so you knew at least he’d not been a casualty of the most recent base attacks. 

He was right in the thick of it from what you’d read, out there somewhere risking his life, fighting for it and all you could do was keep writing, keep hoping and keep checking the casualty lists. Every day that he wasn’t listed was another day that you could breathe.

You never went anywhere without his letters, or the portrait he had sent at your request. Your fingers would constantly brush over his face, the black and white doing no justice to the brightness of his eyes or the gilded glow of his hair. The tight fear in your chest was with you constantly now.

Margot had nailed you. Attached you certainly were, more than that if you were honest with yourself. While you may have cared for him in a friendly way when you’d met (ignoring the spark of attraction you’d felt as soon as he’d turned that smile on you), his letters had brought you so much further. The unwritten rule that you tried to keep things hopeful infused both of your letters. He knew all about your friends, your work and even the fact that the boardinghouse girls routinely walloped the older men in street cricket. He wrote to you of food fights in the canteen, of a young officer who’d disappeared from base, only to be discovered shacked up with a Commander’s daughter in Brighton. And because he knew he could, he would tell you when one of his squadron didn’t come home, or the fear he felt whenever he flew and the desperate desire to just make it home.

In the three months since your first letter there had developed an intensity to your letters and to the things you both wrote. There was a deep understanding of one another and an overwhelming desire to know everything you could. Somehow he had wedged his way firmly into your heart with his honesty, charm and humor.

But now for five days there had been nothing, not a word. Despite not seeing him listed as a casualty you couldn’t hold down the fear. He could have gone down in the Channel again, or over Germany. He could have been captured, or just be missing. You weren’t family so no one would even know to notify you if something had happened to him.

Not knowing was killing you.

You still wrote to him as promised, every other day and you would never stop, not until you knew for sure. Today, September 14th, your letter would be all about Violet’s wedding. Her beau was home on leave and they didn’t want to wait, they would get married in the basement if they had to. It was hard to plan anything special between the bombs and the ever stricter rationing, but everyone had pulled together for the young couple and it promised to be a beautiful day.

“Y/N! Hurry up, it's time to go.”

Margot, Dolores and Della all stood at the foot of the stairs and you joined them, waiting for Vi to make her appearance. Each of you wore your prettiest day dress from before the war, a strange feeling after so long with nothing to celebrate. Della had visited her kids and brought back armfuls of wildflowers and you had all woven in your hair and fashioned into a bridal bouquet.

The pall that seemed to hang in the air lifted as soon as Vi emerged at the top of the stairs.

A chorus of appreciative oohs and ahhs accompanied the pretty girl’s descent. You all agreed that there had never in history been a more beautiful bride. She wore Della’s wedding dress, cream silk flowing to the floor, covered in part by Dolores’ veil which fluttered around her head like a halo. A new gown could not have looked or felt any more perfect.

“Ladies, if you please.” A photographer from the paper stood nearby, Margot having convinced him to document the day. He was sweet on her and hopeful that as time went on she might look back at him. Despite her continuing grief you had begun to think there might be hope for them in the end. Every little piece of happiness counted.

You all walked Vi to the church down the street, eyes watering as passersby cheered at the procession and began to follow. Despite everything, all the death and fear, a swell of hope permeated the warm air and you allowed it to fill you. There was no room for unhappiness today, and for the people around you, not a million German bombs could take that hope away.

Vi’s beau, a gawky lad of 23 with thick black hair and a slight stutter wept openly as his stunning bride walked up the aisle along with most of the neighbourhood, filling the little stone building. Within moments you gave up trying to wipe away the tears and just smiled through them, holding Margot’s hand as thoughts of your own men flitted through your minds.

Your breath caught when you rose to exit the church, as Collin’s face, smiling in the dawn light that day in June lurched into your head.

“He’s fine Y/N. I’m sure he’s fine.”

Margot squeezed your hand, the sadness in her eyes almost breaking your heart.

What if he wasn’t? What if you had just been smiling while he was being shot down? What if he was dead? How could you ever even fathom the thought of getting over him?

Lifting your face to the sunlight as you stood at the top of the church stairs, you sent out the wish that Margot was right. You didn’t pray, you never had, but if there was a higher power out there you wanted to hedge your bets.

“Please, please just keep him safe.”

Dolores stepped over, wrapping an arm around your waist, followed by the others until all five of you stood in a huddle, heads together, drawing strength from one another and giving comfort where there was none other to be had.

“Well I’ll be God damned.” Margot suddenly laughed.

She gently grasped your shoulders, turning you until you faced the bottom of the steps, the gasps of the others following you as all eyes fell on the man standing there, resplendent in RAF blue and sporting a smile that could melt a glacier.

“Collins!” you cried out as you launched yourself down the stairs and into his outstretched arms.

He held you, hoisted in the air, face in your neck as you squeezed him, the wool of his blazer rough under your bare arms. Part of you thought he was an hallucination, no matter how tight his arms felt around you.

He didn’t put you down when he pulled his head back to look at you.

“Well now I wasnae expectin such an enthusiastic greetin lass.” he laughed.

You slipped down, feet firmly on the ground, hands roaming over his shoulders and arms, making sure he was real.

“You’re ok, you’re ok.” you whispered over and over, your heart bursting with joy.

When you finally looked up at him you saw his look of concern, followed by understanding.

“Ah lass, I’m sorry. I’m fine.” he sighed pulling you in, your head resting over his heart as he wrapped himself around you.

“What happened to you? I was so worried?”

“I couldna get a letter to ye, they started bombing the cities so quickly, everything happened so fast. If we aren’t flyin we’re sleepin, on and on fer a week or more, then they let us have some down time. I asked fer leave tae come see ye.”

“How long?”

“I have tae be back on base by midnight, so six hours. Some mates went out on the town fer the day, they’ll swing by fer me later.”  
You nodded, the breath that you had been holding for the last five days whooshing out of your body. You would take 6 hours over nothing, any day.

“I guess you just got invited to a wedding, then.”

“Wouldna miss it fer the world.” he hugged you again, lips pressing against your forehead. “I got yer letters last night, but I didna get a chance tae read em.”

“Read them later. Come and meet everyone.”

He was a hit with your friends, with everyone in fact and you found you couldn’t get your eyes off him for a moment. Not that he ever went far from your side.

The entire neighbourhood had banded together for the newlyweds and the small park behind the houses had been festooned with wildflowers, Union Jacks and a hodge podge of items from everyone’s homes. Each neighbour brought a dish to a makeshift trestle table and it was a veritable wartime feast. A violin, drum and some brass had been pulled out and a group of older men were playing music for people to dance.

It was, for one day, as though there wasn’t even a war. Even the Germans refrained from their bombing runs and you could almost forget the threat of invasion, as long as you ignored the flyovers and barrage balloons. Being the only man over 16 and under 60 and not a new husband, Collins was much sought after as a dance partner and he squired every woman who asked. There was nothing in that park but laughter and love, and the kind of hope that wars were won on.

Margot came to sit beside you, stealing an oatcake as you both watched Collins lead your 74 year old landlady in a perfect waltz.

“I have to admit, he’s something.”

“It's the accent.” you quipped, smiling when he waved in your direction.

“Partly, and it obviously has nothing to do with that gorgeous face, that smile or that charm. And don’t even get me started on the rest of him.”

You blushed as Margot elbowed you gently in the side.

“Oh come on Y/N, don’t tell me you haven’t thought about it, because I know you’d be lying.”

“It's only the second time I've ever met him.”

“And? I knew the first time I met Charlie, that was all it took for me.”

“Did you…..you know, ever…?”

“Oh yes, and let me tell you something, I don’t regret it, not for a moment. We were going to be married when he was next on leave so I didn’t care. Now, no matter how my life goes, I’ll always have those moments with him, I’ll always know that I was loved, and that he died knowing he was too.”

“It's just, I’ve never.”

“Neither had I. You’ll know if it's right, and if it is, don’t hold anything back. No regrets.”

“No regrets ‘bout wha?” Collins stood in front of you, a little out of breath, his jacket over his arm. He motioned for you to stand, which you did, allowing him to slide onto your chair and pull you down to sit across his lap.

“We were just talking about the happy couple.” Margot smiled, winking at you.

“Ther’ a lovely pair.” he took a bite from the biscuit you held in your fingers, laughing when you narrowed your eyes at him. “Wha? They dinnae feed me at the base, no like this, I’m fair tae wastin away.”

He tried to look innocent, which lasted about as long as you could manage to hold back your laughter. His arms slid around your waist, head resting against your shoulder. You gave into the temptation and brushed your cheek against the top of his head, his thick hair soft against your skin.

If you could have stayed like that forever you would have. There was nothing but contentment to be found with him and you understood everything that Margot had been saying. He was the one, and there was never going to be another.

Afternoon started to blend with evening and the party continued, you danced with Collins until your feet ached and you couldn’t breathe from laughing. Your heart soared with happiness and you tingled all over every time he touched you. Finally, as night began to fall he looked at his watch and sighed.

“They’ll be comin fer me in a few minutes. Le’s take a walk.”

His fingers threaded through yours, his hand so big, engulfing you completely.

“I’ll no get leave again till after the next round, so abou’ three weeks. And I’ll no be able tae write much while we’re flyin, but I’ll let them know tae contact ye if something happens.”

“Don’t think like that, you’ll be fine, just you wait and see.”

He nodded, though both of you knew that the chances were fairly high that he wouldn’t make it in the end. You weren’t going to allow those thoughts to ruin your last precious moments together.

You stopped, tugging his hand until he faced you. Stepping closer, you brought your hand up to his face, fingers tracing his rough jawline and cheek before sliding down to his neck. Standing up on your toes, you pressed against him, brushing your lips over his, feather light and questioning.

With a groan, Collins pulled you up against him, his mouth colliding with yours, teeth scraping against your lips. Need radiated from you both, the need to be closer, the need to cling to this feeling of being alive. Your fingers threaded into your hair as you tried to hold him to you.

The honking of a horn startled you, and with one last swipe of his lips across yours, Collins pulled away, his hands still splayed across the small of your back. His forehead rested against yours as you both panted and tried to catch your breath.

“I wish you didn’t have to go Jack.” you whispered, cupping his face in your hands.

“I was wonderin if ye were ever gonna say mae name. I don’ want tae leave ye. Next time though I’m due a few days, and I’ll be wantin tae spend every second wi’ ye.”

You nodded, blinking back tears, not wanting to let him go. He was living, breathing and warm in front of you, how were you supposed to send him back to war?

“Collins! Let’s go!”

“Oh leave off, lemme say goodbye tae me girl would ye?”

You both chuckled, lips brushing again. Jack pulled you into a bear hug, lifting you off the ground. His fingers brushed over your hair, pulling free one of the flowers.

“I’ll be seein ye lass. Write tae me tonight, tell me about today.”

“I will, and I’ll see you soon.”

He kissed you one last time and stepped away, taking that warmth and life with him. Walking backward to the car, Jack lifted the flower to his lips, smiling and enjoying the slaps on the back his buddies were giving him.

You stood and watched until the car disappeared, the air chilly as you wrapped your arms around yourself, trying to retain his warmth. In time you wandered back to the park where things were winding down, the bride and groom having disappeared into the house already. The older ladies waved you away when you tried to help, insisting you girls had done enough.

Jack had left his blazer behind, draped across the back of the chair you had both occupied. You placed it over your shoulders, running your fingers over the wool and the small brass plate engraved with his last name. For a long time after you finished writing his letter you sat, tracing the letters over and over before finally wrapping yourself in it, inhaling his smell and drifting off to sleep dreaming of him.


	3. Battle of Britain 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Collins finds himself in the fight of his life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> GRAPHIC.  
> Descriptions of aerial battle, and death.
> 
> I never wanted to in any way gloss over what Collins would have experienced as an RAF fighter after the Dunkirk evacuation.

SEPTEMBER 15 1940  
COLLINS  
10:55am

“Scramble, Scramble, Scramble!”

Collins leapt from his chair, hastily shoving his pile of letters into his jacket, heart jumping into his throat, mouth going dry. The loud clatter of men’s boots on the wooden floorboards was punctuated by more shouts as they sprung up from whatever they were doing, rushing for the doors, the barracks room table littered with board games, half written letters and newspapers, all left behind.

The men were all running at full speed toward the lines of Spitfires standing by. Collins clambered up into the cockpit, wrenching his leather helmet from the control column and jamming it onto his head, radio cables and oxygen tubes trailing. He ran through a mental checklist of settings and instruments as proceeding squadrons took to the air around him. An airman climbed onto the wing handing him the straps of his parachute. Muttering a prayer for luck, Collins slipped it on over his shoulders and secured the safety harness.

On the count, Collins turned on the petrol feeds and pushed the starter button, listening to the engine roar to life with a cloud of bluish smoke be fore rolled away and out onto the field.

There were 12 Spitfires in his Squadron, dubbed Oak and they all turned to the wind and formed up, taking off in four sections of three as they had done a hundred or more times in the past two months. Any pilot who wasn’t scared was a fool, and Jack had never been a fool. With a pat of the pocket over his chest he quickly removed her picture, placing it above his instruments. His heart clenched as he took her in, hair lose, eyes wide, a smile on her face. He had never asked her what she’d been smiling at, preferring to think that it was him.

Tapping his gloved hand against her face he smiled beneath his mask.  
“I’ll be seein ye again soon lass. I promise.”

He was in the last section to take off, just beginning to throttle down the runway when he heard a violent BOOM. Two empty hangars behind erupted in a giant burst of smoke and earth, with two more blasts 30 feet to his right. The shockwave hit his plane like a giant hammer.

“Let’s get out of here!” Harrison Hughes was Flight Lieutenant for this mission, an old friend of Farrier’s.

Collins looked up and saw a massed formation of bombers perhaps 500 feet above, their bomb bay doors open and their wings decorated with the black cross. Bombs were falling all around him and the squadron clawed for enough height to escape.

“Tae the right!” Collins banked as a pair of Messerschmitt 109 fighters screamed into his path, going at least twice their speed. They had no idea, obscured by the bomb smoke, that they had just streaked into the path of a dozen Spitfires.

“Oak 1 do you have them in your sights?”

“Aye Oak leader, I have the one on the left.”

Both fighters blew up mid air as Collins and Hughes pumped out slugs at 160 bullets per second from their wing-mounted guns. The signal was given to regroup, but the armada of bombers had already begun to drop their bombs on the city.

“No ye fuckin dont.” Collins muttered as the other Squadrons joined them, several hundred racing toward the enemy planes.

She was down there somewhere, in danger. He pictured her standing outside the boardinghouse in her blue dress, hand shielding her eyes as she looked to the sky to see the horrors unfolding. His heart wrenched thinking about it, knowing she was beneath this hell somewhere. He had to keep her safe, keep them all safe. It was his job.

Suddenly, a formation of 20 or more ME 109s came diving in out of the sun. They were already firing before Collins and the others even saw them, sliding by underneath them in groups of two and four, passing close enough to see the eyes of the German pilots.

In his experience of the past two years, air warfare felt like a series of illusions and hallucinations. One moment the air was clear, the next it was full of enemy fighters, and then the next they were gone. Trails of tracer fire spat from German guns and remained hanging in the air long after the plane had sped on.

Squinting against the sun, Collins likened them to streaks of death across the sky.

“Jesus!” the air around him was suddenly alive with tracer fire and he turned violently to see two of the enemy planes on his tail, firing. A bomber flew across his sights and he fired, watching him roll over and dive into the clouds below. He banked to the left as the MEs fired again the stick going sloppy in his hand as the nose of his plane dipped vertically down, the ground spinning.

“Shit, shit.” he muttered, able to pull himself out of the spin, maneuvering in behind another enemy plane. The ME seemed to have no idea that Collins was streaking behind him at 450 mph and he stalked it for several minutes before its wings filled the gunsight and he opened fire. Pieces of the plane broke off and Collins watched as the enemy jackknifed into the ground below.

Months of desperate intensity and ‘flying to exhaustion’ had taken their toll, even with the past 24 hours out of the cockpit. Collins could feel his head pounding. The men had been on duty for 20 hours a day, in the air the whole time, with four hours to rest, if they could. And Collins often couldn't. The numbers were against them, the Germans had almost double the planes and pilots, and unlike Fighter Command, they weren't afraid to send them all into battle.  
“Oak 1, watch your tail!”

Diving under a row of bombers and MEs, Collins executed a steep climbing turn, far tighter than any ME could follow, and came in behind the last bomber in formation.

“Take him, Oak 1, I have his escort!”

The ME to the right banked off, smoke pouring from its engine as it broke up. Collins slowed and nearly stalled as his guns roared, the bomber rolling and vanishing before he homed in on the next, who fell out of sight as the Spitfires dodged and rolled with the MEs. There, suddenly in front of him, was a perfect target, bomb bay doors opening, getting ready to rain hell down upon the innocent civilians below. Bullets erupted from the Spitfire’s guns and the bomber started to go down, falling apart as flames licked through it. Wanting to see it blow up, Collins gave chase, unwittingly showing his tail to a lone ME that had gone unnoticed.

Collins’ eyes widened in sudden fear as he realized what he’d done.

BOOM! Something exploded under his seat, the armour plating barely protecting him and ringing like a bell.

“Shit! No!”

The Spitfire reared up and hurtled into a savage loop before Collins was able to stabilize it.

“Oak leader, I’m hit.”

Petrol sloshed in the bottom of the plane and he knew that one spark from either tracer fire or the exhaust would be the end of him.

“Heard Oak 1, what’s your status?”

“Fuel tank’s been hit, I’ve go petrol in the cockpit.”

Return to base Oak 1, get another plane. Over.”

“Over.”

Collins limped the Spitfire back to base, landing it cleanly, away from the undamaged buildings.

“She can be saved, but donnae let anythin spark near her till ye drain the fuel!” he yelled, sprinting toward the hangar and calling for another plane.

Someone handed him a canteen of water and he waited, several Spitfires from all squadrons limping in, some damaged, some in need of fuel. The armada of bombers had moved off the coast now, over the channel and the exhausted men simply sat and waited. All reports said the Germans would be coming again. The day was far from over yet.

Hot food was placed in front of them and they ate silently, weary and tormented. For all their efforts, the city had still been heavily bombed, though not to the full extent that the Luftwaffe had planned. People were still dead on the ground, and for all Collins knew, she could be one of them. Pulling out her picture he traced his fingers over her face. There was nothing more he wanted than to see her again.

She’d been in his head since that awful night after the evacuation, her gentle kindness as she’d driven him back to the base and the way she’d cried for him and the others. That she was pretty was, at first, merely a bonus. Through the letters they’d sent back and forth something more had developed, but Collins hadn’t truly believed it until she’d been in his arms the day before. The moment he’d felt her arms around him he knew.

Now, they just had to survive long enough for him to tell her, and to ask her to marry him.

“Collins! Mate, I was wondering how you’d got on.”

Hughes pulled up a seat next to him, looking just as tired as the rest of them.

“Warrick and Stevens didn’t make it.”

“Wha abou’ the other squadrons?” Collins asked around a mouthful of bread.

“24 lost total, 36 planes damaged or destroyed.”

“There’s so many of em, so few of us.”

“We have right on our side though, lad. For King and Country and all that.”

“Yeah, but is it enough?” Collins murmured.

“It had has to be.” Hughes leaned over. “That your sweetheart?”

“Yeah. She’s in London, works in a munitions factory there.”

“That’s where you went to yesterday is it? Was it a happy reunion?” Hughes waggled his eyebrows making Collins laugh and blush.

“Wasnae like tha, there was a weddin.”

“Next time you get leave you’re due a few days right?”

Collins nodded, tucking the picture back inside his jacket.

“There’s a place in Cornwall, called the Swan. I took my Sally there for our honeymoon before all this shit started. Lots of beautiful scenery and plenty of privacy, and it's far away from all this.”

“Do ye think she’ll go wi’ me?”

“I do. The amount of letters she sends you, its obvious she loves you.” 

Hughes clapped Collins on the shoulder, before turning to his food. Both men were lost in thought, waiting for the inevitable call, watching the flight crews fuel and prep for the next wave.

2pm

“Scramble, Scramble!”

Collins jerked awake, neck aching from his position slumped in the chair.

“See you up there my boy!” Hughes called as they ran for their planes.

Men roared around him, a bravado of sorts building to hide the palpable fear. The game was on again.

The battle roared and raged, the skies bruised and scarred with tracer fire and smoke. The armada of bombers just kept coming, no matter how many of them the men shot down. Collins and Hughes spent an hour engaged with a trio of particularly determined MEs, diving and banking, spinning and shooting. Collins’ hands cramped, sweaty in his leather gloves as his body took a beating. Sweat dripped into his eyes as he squinted against the late afternoon sun.

Finally, after hours of it, the German planes began to retreat back over the channel, the RAF chasing them until they began to run low on fuel.

The squadron flew in formation over London, Collins looking down at the damage inflicted by the bombs below. Fires had broken out in several areas and factories had been reduced to piles of rubble. Terror welled in his throat as he thought about Y/N down there.

“Please be alrigh lass, please.”

“Oak 1, this is Oak leader, over.”

“Heard, Oak leader.”

“I’ve sustained some damage to my left engine, I’m going to pull back and beside you.”

Collins looked out as Hughes pulled back to his right side. He could immediately see the heavy damage sustained.

“Oak leader, notin severe damage tae yer fuselage, and it looks li yer landin gears been taken out.”

“Noted Oak 1, land everyone safely. I’m going to attempt a landing.”

“Oak leader, I don’ recommend tha’”

“Your concern is noted, Oak 1. See you on the ground.”

Collins landed his plane without incident, along with the rest of the squadron. They all crawled out of their cockpits to stand with the flight crews, watching for Hughes.

“C’mon man.” he muttered as he watched the sputtering plane line up for a hard landing. There was silence as it dropped ever lower, seemingly like a rock out of the sky. If anything, the Spitfire seemed to be gaining speed as it descended.  
It was evident pretty quickly that it was going to be a bad landing. Hughes came in almost sideways, one wing clipping the ground, the one good engine shrieking painfully as the Spitfire flipped over, sliding cockpit first down the runway. Collins and the others looked on in horror as the fuselage erupted into flames.

A horrible screaming came from beneath the cockpit hood, muffled by the crackling of flames.

“Someone help him!” Collins cried out, running toward the burning plane.

“Collins no!” men chased after him as he grabbed a crowbar from the ground, shielding his face from the heat.

“Hughes! I’m comin mate!” 

Over and over he swung the iron against the hood, barely even making a dent. Smoke poured from the wreckage, choking him, the heat so intense he could feel the skin on his face burning. 

“God damnit! Someone help me! I cannae break the hood!”

A set of arms pulled him back, several of the men holding him as she struggled and yelled. He could see the condemned man convulsing and writhing, hammering on the unyielding cage. 

“Collins! Please! Do it, please God, do it!”

The despairing cry of his friend carried over the men as they let Collins go. They had all talked about this, every man had agreed on the course of action.

Collins looked down as someone handed him the gun, tears in his eyes a sick, awful feeling filling his chest. He walked toward the cockpit again, flames licking the inside, Hughes barely moving but still screaming in agony. With a deep breath, Collins pointed the gun forward, looking into the eyes of the dying man. Hughes nodded, mouthing the words “thank you” before closing his eyes. Collins sobbed, tears streaming down his soot-covered face before pulling the trigger, shooting Hughes in the head.

The sea of men parted as he turned away from the wreckage, throwing the gun to the side. Hands brushed his shoulders as silence followed him all the way back to his own plane where he stopped, falling to the ground by the wheel.

He couldn’t breathe, no matter how hard he gasped and struggled for air. Men surrounded him, lying exhausted on the grass. He couldn’t get the image of Hughes out of his head, his pleading eyes, the terrible screams. He felt so desperately alone. 

Collins sat for a few minutes, head on his knees as he tried to pull himself together. Finally he managed to catch a breath, fumbling in his pocket and pulling out her picture. Choking back tears he ran his thumb over it, leaving a black smear on the corner from his sooty hands. He just wanted her, needed her to hold him and tell him that he’d done the right thing. Ripping a page from his flight manual he scribbled a note with his grease pencil, fingers leaving black streaks across the paper. 

Looking about wildly he clutched it in his hand, no envelope in sight, not really seeing what was around him. Panic rose in his throat as he panted and gasped, he had to find one, had to or it would be the end of the world.

A hand came down firmly on his. “Collins, mate.” the voice of his flight crew member was gentle and calm. “Let me, I’ll take care of it ok.”

He gently pried the crumpled paper from Collins’ hand, knowing the man was close to collapse. He knew where the addresses of the loved ones were kept. Looking down at the paper he sighed heavily, feeling the despair of the younger man in every word.  
“I’m alive. I love you. Please forgive me.”

Collins was in a daze as the man walked off, not seeing anything of what was around him. A hand came down gently on his shoulder, followed by another and then more as the men all gathered around, huddled together in the cold night air, all looking toward the smoldering wreckage of Hughes’ plane. Their silent support and acceptance of his actions roused Collins. With a nod he turned away, facing the wheel before curling into a ball and weeping like a baby.


	4. Battle of Britain Requiem

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Battle of Britain is just as bad for those on the ground as the struggle to survive continues.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again with the graphic depictions of battle, bombings and death.

SEPTEMBER 15 1940  
LONDON  
6AM

When you woke with the sunlight streaming through your small window, Jack’s blazer was still wrapped around you, his smell filling your nostrils with every breath, letting you believe for half an instant that he was there with you. You sighed, allowing yourself the time to make-believe, to remember the little moments from the day before. The feel of hand as it slid across your back, the little snort he emitted right before he laughed, and the way he had looked at you, as if you were the whole world.

Your heart clenched as a sob rose in your throat. You felt the absence of him like a missing limb, a deep agony inside of you. It hurt to breathe, just knowing that he was back out there, every second in danger, every moment another opportunity for a German fighter to shoot him out of the sky.

God, how were any of you going to make it through this?

It was 2 hours before your shift at the factory and the crisp breeze was calling your outside, a walk would do you good, perhaps blow away the feeling of dread that had been with you since you waved Jack off the night before. Looking out the window you breathed it in, nose wrinkling at the distant smell of smoke. The bombers had come again last night, as they did every night and day, though this had been on the other side of the city. The radio was reporting it as a small raid, much smaller than the ones the city had experienced in the last week. They were saying that it was a sign the Germans were going to back off because their tactics weren’t working. All their attacks had done nothing to hold back the RAF so why would they think their attacks on the cities would dampen British morale?

You felt wrong. The clear blue sky mocked you. Something was coming, something big and you somehow knew there was no way you were going to able to escape it.

Pulling the jacket over your thick overalls you decided to see if Margot wanted to walk in the garden with you. You made sure Jack’s letters were tucked safely in the deep pocket before making your way down the hall to her room. Hand poised to knock, you heard the sound of music from inside, inviting you to push open the door a few centimeters, peeking inside.

Your breath caught when you saw her, still in her pyjamas, Charlie’s uniform jacket on a hanger in her hands. Her fingers ran over the olive green wool, smoothing it before holding it up in front of her, head resting against where his heart would have been. Tears stung your eyes as she began to move in time to the song, their song she had told you once. Her eyes closed as she danced, tears leaking from behind her eyelids and you backed out of the room, your heart breaking at the sight of her.

You ran downstairs and out into the garden, chest heaving as you tried to hold back both your tears and the rising panic. There was so much sadness, so much suffering, how could you keep your hope alive in the face of it all? You thought of Jack, of the jacket you wore being the only piece of him you had left and what that would be like? Would you sleep with it every night or hang it away to be brought out only in moments like the one you’d just witnessed. The thought of never seeing him again, hearing his voice or feeling his skin against yours was such a torment that you wanted to scream, yell and rage against whoever was responsible.

How long you stayed crying in the garden you didn’t know, the sound of Margot’s steps making you realize it was getting late. You tried to wipe away the tears before she could see them, not wanting your sadness to eclipse her. At least your Jack was still breathing. You hoped.

“I know you miss him Y/N” she said sadly, her hands on your shoulders.

“How do you do it Margot? How do you go on feeling like this?”

“I have to, for Charlie, he would have wanted it. And I remember. All the happy memories that keep him alive in my heart. Some days I can almost fill the hole he left behind with them, most of the time I can’t but I still try. One day at a time, it's all you can do.”

If Margot could pull through this, then so could you. You had hope that she didn’t have, the hope of seeing Jack again, of feeling his warmth and his beating heart. Margot would never again see Charlie’s face, hear his voice or feel his touch. All she had was her memories, and they were enough to sustain her. You thought to yourself that you had never met a stronger woman in your life and you could only hope to be even half as strong in the face of things to come.

You both sat and talked for a while, letting Margot tell you stories about Charlie, laughing at some of the antics he’d managed to pull. He sounded like a really decent fellow and you wished that you could have met him.

“Right, enough reminiscing, we have to get to work.”

With a sigh, you both stood, trying to shake off the melancholy. The sense of impending….something...you couldn’t shake off and it stayed with you like a heavy blanket as you began your work. The factory was dirty and hot, and more often than not you ended the day greasy and grimy from head to toe. You loved it. Loved feeling useful and needed, loved knowing you had some small part to play in the effort to win the war.

Collins’ blazer hung in a locker in the common room, too far away for comfort and you felt nervous and jumpy without it, the urge to wrap it around yourself despite the grime almost overwhelming. Biting your bottom lip until it bled you kept going, trying to squash your anxiety, one eye on the clock.

11am

You were looking over blueprints with a co worker when you heard the screeching wail of the air raid sirens begin. All around you people ran for cover, heading for the shelter. Your eyes wild, you tried to push the opposite way, towards the common room and everything you had to keep Jack close to you.  
“Y/N! Forget it, we have to go!”

“No! Go, I’m right behind you!” You flung open the locker door, hauling the jacket over your shoulders as you ran for the exit behind the others, Margot glaring at you.

“Think about how he’d feel if you got yourself killed trying to save his damn uniform!”

“I couldn’t leave it, Margot. His letters. I couldn’t.”

She sighed in comprehension.

“Come on then. We have to hurry.”

You rushed out into the daylight, surrounded by the screams and running feet of the people still left on the streets. There was a droning, grinding sound, pulsing louder and louder overhead and you looked up towards it.

“Oh my God!”

The skies above the city were full as row upon row of German bombers flew over like a swarm of locusts. The rat tat tat of anti aircraft fire echoed around you as you realized what you were seeing. The bomb bay doors of some several hundred enemy planes were wide open, fat, dark objects pouring from their bellies and plummeting toward the ground.

The earth around you shook from the guns and you could hear the BOOM CRUMP CRUMP of heavy bombs finding their targets, not too far away from where you stood paralyzed.

“Get in the shelter! Now!” margot’s scream roused you as the bombs continued to fall, closer and closer.

There was the rumble and crack of them tearing buildings apart, the terrified screams of women as they ran for cover. Through the thickening dust you could see the formations overhead, watching as scores of Spitfires and Hurricanes came screeching into the arena, lines of tracer fire streaking across the sky. A bomber was hit and you saw it dive, breaking apart. The Spitfire behind it twisting and spinning into position behind a German fighter.

He was up there. You knew it and you couldn’t look away, no matter what you saw.

The same Spitfire fell into a terrifying spin and you held your breath as he plummeted toward the ground, pulling out in time and racing back into the thick of the fighting.

Suddenly there was a BOOM beside you and the ground shifted, knocking you into the air to land with bone-jarring force on the street. You were lucky that Jack’s blazer and the thick denim of your work clothes protected your skin from the concrete and you lay trying to catch your breath as rubble landed around you, explosions popping from all directions.

Your ears rang and acrid smoke filled your nostrils as you crawled over the pavement toward the shelter entrance. Two sets of arms hauled you up, your body screaming as they dragged you inside and down the wooden steps.

“I’m ok.” You managed to croak as one of the girls forced a tin cup of tepid water to your lips. “Where’s Margot?”

“I’m here, you idiot.” she pushed through, a blanket in her hands. “You like a fright Y/N, what the hell were you thinking?”

“Spitfires.”

“I’m starting to think your Jack is the one who should be worried, not you. You have a death wish.”

More explosions rumbled around you, everyone in the shelter jumping as the earth shook.

“I think they hit the factory. There’s hundreds of them. It's not just certain areas, they’re just bombing the entire city.”

Margot managed to get you over to a cot, helping you clean up as best you could. There was brick dust and soot all over you, all over Jack’s blazer and you shook it out before hugging the wool close. It still smelled like him, faintly now. When you thought about how close you’d come to losing it you wanted to be sick. Instead you curled up under the blanket as your head ached and spun, Margot sitting sentry silently beside you.

It was an hour before the sirens stopped and the all clear was given. Your head pounded and you could feel the bruises forming all over your body. There was a large graze on your cheek and a cut across your forehead that had bled like a bitch. White dust coated your hair, making it itch. But you were ok. You had survived.

The sight that greeted you as you exited the shelter was nothing short of the end of the world. A huge crater surrounded by rubble marked where the main floor of the factory had once been. What little was left standing was engulfed in an inferno. The street was full of rubble, crumpled and mangled vehicles and fire seemed to rage all around you.

“We have to get back to the boardinghouse.” Margot called through the smoke.

You nodded, moving toward what seemed like a clear path. The building beside you groaned and you both screamed and jumped as it came toppling down in a rain of stone, dust and flame, crashing into the street where you had just been standing. A little further along you met another huge crater. Margot tried to tug you back as you stepped to the edge.

“Leave it Y/N, there’s nothing we can do for anyone in there.”

She was right of course, you realized when you saw what lay inside. You gasped, hand covering your mouth as you looked over the remains of what used to be a trolley car, the crushed and dismembered pieces of what used to be its passengers scattered about the hole. A young woman lay there, no older than you, like a brokendoll, her vacant dead eyes staring at you accusingly, half her body ripped to shreds by fractured metal.

Bile rose and you scrambled away from the edge, falling to your knees in the ruined street, gasping and vomiting, tears streaming and your chest tightening.

“Oh God, oh God oh God.” you were almost hysterical as Margot pulled you back to your feet.

“Y/N, you have to stop. We have to get out of here. You know they’ll be back. It's not over. I need you to calm down.”

She held your head, forcing you to look at her, to watch her take deep, calming breaths which your body slowly started to mimic as you managed to gain control of yourself again.

“Are you with me?”

“I’m with you.”

You walked arm in arm, avoiding the craters and the piles of stone. Explosions still rocked areas in the city, flames meeting petrol and other incendiary materials. It was strange, you thought, as you made your way through the streets. Whole blocks had been left untouched except for dust and paper debris while others had just been decimated.

Here and there bodies lay in the streets, some volunteers from the ambulance corps already there to cover them up and check to see if any might still be alive. You felt completely useless against the sheer enormity of the horror, what did you even know how to do?

Your neighbourhood had been left untouched and you wanted to weep with relief when you saw all the other girls crowded outside the house beside a Red Cross lorry. Della and Dolores rushed over, screeching, sure until that moment that you and Margot had been lost in the factory explosion.

“They need volunteers,” Dolores was explaining as Della forced water over your face, tutting over the injuries when you winced. “They want people to go back in and help look for survivors who might be trapped.”

“You know they’ll come again, right?” you handed a canteen of water to Margot, who had reappeared from inside the house with two sandwiches.

“That’s why they want ‘volunteers’, it’s going to be dangerous no matter what.”

“Well, count me in. Margot?”

“I’m sure as hell not sitting around for the next bomb to drop so I guess I’m going too.”

 

You were taken to an area of the city where the fires hadn’t reached yet. Piles of stone and brick was all that remained of the whole street, a few skeletal wooden frames still standing. But not for long. Men and women, civilians and Corps rushed back and forth with stretchers, supplies and survivors who were dazed and injured.

“Here.” A man handed you Red Cross armbands, which you slid over the arms of Jack’s blazer, and a bag filled with bandages, alcohol and water. “Check for signs of life, if they’re dead then mark them with the grease pencil. Listen for survivors trapped under the rubble. Call out if you hear anyone. Get as many people as you can into the Tube, there’s a triage set up down there. Do not, under any circumstances, go into a structure, even if it looks solid. Call for help if you hear someone inside. Any questions?”

You all shook your heads, dispersing to help the volunteers already in the thick of things. What seemed like hours passed as you hauled stone, dug into wreckage and searched for survivors. More often than not you simply were marking bodies for pick up.

“Over here!” Margot called suddenly. “Hurry!”

Sticking out of the rubble was a child’s arm, fingers grasping, still alive. With a cry for help you scrambled onto the pile, tearing up your hands as you dug at the wreckage.

“Hold on honey, we’re coming! Della, Dolores, help!”

The four of you dug around the arm, revealing the face of a little boy, no more than four years old. His face was black and red with soot and blood, one eye swollen completely shut.

“Mummy! I want my mummy!” he started crying the moment his head was free.

His mother was dead, half her body covering his, under the rubble. She’d died protecting him. Tears streaming down your cheeks you worked to free him, noticing one little leg was broken.

“Here sweetheart, have some of this.” you let him sip of the water, gently wiping his face and knowing how much moving him was going to hurt. Margot had run for a stretcher, Della and Dolores were out of sight, called to help someone else. You had been left alone to comfort the child.

“Where’s my mummy?” You cried as you held him, keeping his head turned away from where her body lay a few feet away.

You murmured words of comfort to try and keep his mind off his pain and fear. Stroking his forehead you told him about the heroic pilots you’d seen while he spun in and out of consciousness.

“Over here! Hurry please!” you heard Margot’s voice and sat up to see her about half a block away, two men with a stretcher following behind her. Standing up you waved, glad to see her, smiling as she waved back, pointing the way to help.

2pm

You hand stilled in midair as the sirens began to screech, the familiar and terrifying grinding noise of German bombers quickly filling the air. Everything slowed down as you turned your face to the sky, horrified as it turned black with swarms of planes.

They were right above you, rows of death, black spots falling from their cavernous insides toward you. 

You spun, time almost standing still, a scream dying on your lips as the ground in front of Margot suddenly erupted in a geyser of earth, stone and fire. Your body was thrown forward, over the screaming child in your charge, soundless screams tearing from your throat as you saw the crater stained red where your best friend had just been standing.

There was nothing left.

Moments passed in a daze as bombs rained down around your city, volunteers running past you for the shelter of the Tube.

“Oy, luv, come on, let’s go!” An older man clambered up to you, taking in the situation. “You need to get your boy to safety! Here now, that’s the way.”

His arm came around you, helping you to your feet. The boy screamed as he was lifted, bringing you back.

“His leg’s broken, we shouldn’t move him.”

 

“Better a few minutes of pain than dead miss. Let’s go, I’ll help you.”

The child hollering in your arms, helped you down from the rubble, running beside you, his hand on your back as he led you to the Underground.

“Here now, miss, you’ll be safe down ‘ere.”

He handed you off to a volunteer before disappearing, lost in the sea of terrified civilians. The boy was taken from you into the triage area, closed off by hanging sheets. The screams and moans coming from behind them left no-one in any doubt of what was happening behind them.

“Come with me miss, looks like you could use some help.” An elderly Nurse drew you behind the sheets, sitting beside you. 

You looked around at medics trying to save lives, set broken limbs and stitch gashes. An exhausted looking doctor with blood covering his apron walked past you, wiping his brow and barking orders. A pale arm hung from under a sheet as a stretcher was carried past you into the tunnel. A decent look in that direction made you wish you could be anywhere but inside that Underground tomb. Bodies covered in sheets lined both sides of the tunnel, as far as your eye could see in the darkness. Hundreds of people. Men, women, children, it was unfathomable.

The nurse began to clean your face and hands and you winced when she dabbed at your skin with alcohol. Tears streaked through the dirt and blood on your face, dripping onto the sleeve of the blazer.

“I’m going to have to stitch this.” the Nurse handed you a bottle of brandy, motioning that you should drink it. “I’ve no anesthetic, this won’t be pleasant.”

You didn’t care, pain meant you were alive, unlike Margot. She would never feel anything again. You drank heavily from the bottle, the alcohol burning its way into your stomach as the Nurse applied the needle to your face. 

The pain was nothing compared to what you felt in your heart.

“Y/N.” a whisper beside you, Dolores with Della standing beside her, dirt covering them. “Where’s Margot?”

Sobs rose in your throat as you shook your head, unable to put it into words. Dolores sat beside you, holding you against her shoulder as the Nurse kept stitching, Della kneeling to clean and dress your torn and broken skin. 

There were no words to be spoken, nothing that could even be said to make sense of it.

When the bombs stopped falling finally at dusk you all made your way home, silently.

When morning came you didn’t move from your bed, that part of Jack wrapped around you, dirty and bloody, his letters safe. Dolores sat on the bed a copy of the paper open to the front page. They were calling it The Battle of Britain, a decisive victory with poetic speeches about the bravery of the pilots who’d risked their lives, “The Few” they were being hailed as, heroes they certainly were. 

“Here, this came for you. Hand delivered.” Dolores handed you an envelope with your name and address scrawled on it in writing that wasn’t Jack’s.

With rising fear you stared at it, noting the dirty fingerprints. Your hands shook as you tried to open it and Dolores had to take it from you to finish. You watched her slide out a single slip of paper, it looked as though it had been torn from a flight book, crumpled and filthy. She looked it over and handed it to you without a word.

It was his writing, seven words scribbled across a page streaked with petrol and tears. And they made you weep.

“I’m alive. I love you. Forgive me.”

“He’s ok, thank God he’s ok.”

Dolores simply lay down beside you, holding you while you both wept.


	5. At Last

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How do you even begin to get over what's happened? Then there's that surprise that's waiting for you at the boarding house.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I thought we all needed just a little bit of happy.

The next days and weeks seemed to pass in a daze as the Blitz continued, day after day, night after night, though somewhat less intensive than previously. The mood at the boarding house was gloomy and sad, several of the girls packing up and leaving for the countryside now that the factory was gone. You, Della and Dolores had waited, stationary and grief-stricken for two weeks before going into Margot’s room and packing up her belongings so you could take them back to her parents in Weymouth.

There was no funeral, no body to bury, just the memory of how she died flashing every time you closed your eyes.

Your days were spent throughout the city, a full-fledged Ambulance Corps/Red Cross volunteer now. For hours on end, between the bombings, you helped relocate civilians, administered First Aid and distributed supplies. The bruises on your body ripened into expanses of purple and black, yellow beginning to tinge the edges now. The stitches in your face had been removed yesterday, the bright red scar a slash across the skin.

It served as an ugly reminder of that day and you couldn’t even look in the mirror without seeing her staring back at you.

Violet had returned that morning from her ‘honeymoon’ in Wales, re-opening the barely scabbed wound of grief in all of you and, after hours of crying and talking, you were exhausted. A letter to Jack lay sealed on your little desk, not a mention of Margot, or your injuries or any of the new realities of your life to be found. You didn’t want to burden him with any of it. There had been one letter from him since that note the day after the battle. His exhaustion and sadness bled through every word he’d written on those pages. Something had happened to him, something he didn’t write in his letter but you sensed it, and sensed that it was awful, even life-changing.

He wrote that he loved you, that he only wanted to see you if you still wanted him now. You had cried, your heart swelling with equal amounts joy and sorrow. Joy that he loved you, that you weren’t alone in your feelings and sadness that he could, for even a second, contemplate the notion that you wouldn’t want him. Then the sorrow that came from knowing that Margot wasn’t here to share your joy and sadness.

And the guilt of course, guilt for feeling even a little happy about Jack so soon after her death.

All you told Jack was that you loved him too, and that you were waiting for him.

There was no answer, the RAF was in full battle throes and you could do nothing except wait and hope.

“Y/N, are you coming down to the basement?” Della was at your door, wan smile not reaching her eyes.

You nodded, pulling a dressing gown over your pyjamas and folding Jack’s blazer over your arm. You lay on your cot, not sleeping. You had barely slept a wink since that day, none of you had. Sometime after the sirens began their nightly wail you felt someone sit behind you, a dainty hand on your shoulder.

“That photographer from the paper came by today, after you went upstairs. He, um, he gave me this.”

You sat up as Vi placed a large envelope in your hands.

“Are these?” your hands shook.

“Yes.” she murmured.

“Go get the others.”

You waited until Della and Dolores joined you on your cot before opening the envelope and sliding the contents out on the blanket. There were intakes of breath as the pictures appeared, whispered reminiscing over each one, tears falling at the many images of Margot’s smiling face. Every moment of that perfect day had been captured, the last day that Margot had smiled and laughed. The last time she had truly been alive.

Your fingers ran over an image of you and her on the steps of the Church, sun creating a glow around you as you watched the bride.

“May I have this one, Vi?”

“Of course, and this one too.” she handed you a photo of you and Jack as you’d sat talking, his arms around you, looking up at you as though you were the sun. The look of adoration on your face just as obvious through the lens.

Your breath caught as you looked at his face, missing him, needing him so much in that moment that it almost overwhelmed you.

Violet’s hand came down on your yours, squeezing gently and you calmed yourself, focusing on the moment at hand.

The rest of the night was spent in memories as the four of you went through the pictures over and over, bittersweet laughter and tears punctuating the conversation. You felt lighter as the sun rose, a kind of closure reached in the night. The sadness remained, the fear too, but you could see Margot smiling now when you closed your eyes. It was as though she was speaking to you, giving you her blessing, telling you that it was ok to go on.

You silently promised her that you would, no matter what.

With dawn came light and the responsibilities of the new day, another morning closer to seeing Jack. You hoped. With his blazer keeping you warm you sent off the letter before reporting to volunteer.

It was noon when Violet found you handing out food in the Tube. Out of breath she came running up to you.

“Y/N, you have to come home now. It’s important.”

You heart leapt in sudden fear. Jack!

Violet noticed your reaction, quickly smiling to assuage it.

“Everyone is ok, just come, please, you’ll see.”

You pestered her the whole way home but she gave you nothing, just a secretive smile and an arm in yours as she hurried you along. Della and Dolores stood by the stairs as you walked in, your landlady close by, wiping her eyes.

“Ok, what’s going on? What happened?”

“A present.” Dolores smiled. “We put it in your room.”

Puzzled, you climbed the stairs, feeling everyone’s eyes on your back. Your room looked the same as you’d left it that morning and you stepped through the door reaching around to pull it closed behind you. Turning as you did so, you caught sight of a figure behind the door and you yelped in fright, jumping back.

“Afternoon.”

Your eyes focused and the dark figure became Jack, standing in front of you, alive and well. Tears filled them as you stepped forward meeting his warmth with your body, arms wrapping around his waist and feeling every bad thing drain away as you felt his arms envelop you.

Nothing needed to be said as you both stood there, unmoving, his heart beating against your ear, his chest rising and falling with his every breath. Some time later he pulled away, his fingers sliding into your hair, holding you gently as he brushed his lips over yours, gently at first and then with increasing urgency. His tongue traced across your bottom lip, encouraging your mouth to open for him.

His moan was a rumble in his chest as one of your hands slid gently over his neck, fingers gliding under the neck of his shirt. Jack buried his face in your neck, breath hot against your skin as he whispered against you.

“I missed ye so much. God it's good tae see ye.”

“I missed you too, Jack.”

“Le’me look at ye lass, make sure yer real.”

You took in his face as he looked at you. There were lines that hadn’t been there three weeks ago, dark shadows and bags under his eyes. He was smiling gently as you looked at him, drinking him in.

His brow furrowed and he tilted your head to the side, fingers tracing over the faded yellow bruising, then the shell pink spots where the grazes had healed. His lips drew into a tight line, eyes finding the red, raised scar along your jaw.

“It's ok Jack, really.”

“Ye dinnae look ok, wha’ happened tae ye?”

You shook your head, blinking back tears, you couldn’t talk about it. Not yet. Not with him, you didn’t want anything like that to ruin whatever time you had with him.

“Dolores told me abou’ Margot, I’m so sorry luv.”

With a sigh, you sat down on the bed, leaning your head on his shoulder when he sat beside you. His hand reached over, fingers lacing with yours as you sat awkwardly, neither of you knowing what to say or do.

You hadn’t expected this, the air of tension and something else you couldn’t define. Your heart twisted in your chest as you chewed on your bottom lip. Did he feel differently, was that what this awkwardness was?

“Jack?” you whispered when he sighed. “What is it?”

“Ye’ll hate me if I tell ye, luv.”

His head was hanging, hair flopping over his brow, both his hands grasping yours, thumbs rubbing over the scars on your knuckles and fingers.

“Jack, nothing you say will make me hate you. If you feel differently that you did, I’ll understand.”

It hurt your heart to say it, but causing him pain would only hurt you more.

“No!” he jumped up, kneeling on the ground in front of you, hands on your knees. “Nay lass, it’s no tha. No at all, ye understand?”

You nodded, cupping his cheek in your hand. Jack looked like a lost puppy, nuzzling has face against your hand, pressing his lips against your palm.

“I did summan terrible Y/N. Ye’ll no be able tae look at me the same again.”  
He told you then, the whole terrible story of the battle, everything that happened that day. With tears in his eyes he recounted his part in Hughes’ death, and you finally understood the message that you’d received that day, why he’d written ‘forgive me.’ You ached for his pain, for the guilt you knew he had to feel.

“Jack, look at me.”

He did, the face that you loved so much a mask of pain and self-loathing. Leaning over, you tugged him up, scooting back to lay on your bed, pulling him beside you, his head on your shoulder, your fingers stroking his hair. You looked down at him, his eyes so sad it hurt.

“You did the right thing Jack. He was suffering and he would have died no matter what. You helped him, you were a good friend.”

“I murdered him, there’s no way ‘round tha.”

“No, my love, you didn’t. You made a choice, one that no-one should have to make, but you did what you had to do for your friend. That you feel like this about it means you are a good man. It was an impossible situation.”

“I cannae ge’ it out of me head. I can still hear him screamin, beggin fer help. I couldna help him.”

“You did help him, Jack. You ended his pain.”

“He had a wife, a wee bairn. He was tellin me abou’ ther honeymoon ri’ before we went back up. How he took Sally tae this place in Cornwall and how happy they were, ‘S no fair.”

“No, it isn’t. None of this is fair and I’m so sorry darling.”

“Can ye ever fergive me?” he wrapped his arms around your waist tightly.

“There’s nothing to forgive. I love you.”

“I love ye too lass, so verra much. I never wan’tae let ye out of me sight again.”

“Good, cause I’m not planning to let you go.”

“Le’s go away fer a bit. I’ve seven days. Would ye come away wi’ me?”

“Yes.”

“Where should we go then?”

“Don’t you want to go home, see your folks?”  
“No. I cannae go knowin I’ll jus have tae leave again. Me Ma and Da understand, they’ll come tae see us.”

“Us?”

“Aye, I wrote them ‘bout ye, they’re dyin tae meet ye.”

“No pressure.” you laughed nervously as his nose nuzzled your neck. “They may not like me you know.”

“Darlin, they’ll love ye as much as I do.”

“Cornwall.”

“Wha?”

“Let’s go to Cornwall, in honour of your friend.”

“If tha’s wha ye wan’tae do, then tha’s where we’ll go.”

“I just want to be with you Jack. I don’t care where.”

“Me too, luv, me too. Why don’ ye get organized and I’ll go back downstairs before yer landlady skins me alive.”

“Right, an innocent young woman with a dashing young RAF officer, alone in my room. She must be having spasms right about now.” you chuckled, easing off the bed.

He followed you, hands on your hips, pressing his mouth against your neck as you led him over to the door.

“Didnae yer folks ever teach ye no tae keep company wi’ strange men in yer room?”

“Nothing was said about handsome Scottish Spitfire pilots.”

“Maybe summan shoulds been.” his lips slid damply behind your ear, causing you to shiver.

“Get out you rascal, before she comes up to skin you alive.”

You pushed him out the door, closing it behind him. His hand came through the gap, holding it open a few inches.

“I love ye Y/N.”

You brushed your fingers over his knuckles.

“I love you too.”

He smiled warmly, pulling back his hand.

“Hurry, I donnae wan ye out of me sight fer long.”

Pursing your lips you blew him a kiss, closing your door and leaning against it with shaking legs.

“No regrets, make it count.” you whispered, your heart hammering your chest.

No regrets.


	6. Pack Up Your Troubles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's time to escape for just a little while.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a short chapter, Collins was not co-operating with me when I was writing this. Basically just tooth-rotting fluffy moments because these two deserve some happy.

The drive to Cornwall took less time than you’d expected, or perhaps it was simply that time seemed to fly in a terrifying way when you were with Jack. The countryside flew by in a blur, villages and churches dissolving into smears of grey, brown and green. Jack Collins behind the wheel of a car was, as you could only assume, much the same man who flew the Spitfires. His hands caressed the steering wheel, urging the vehicle into speeds you’d certainly never experienced. For most of the trip you could tear your eyes away from them, drinking in his long fingers and large palms, amazed that hands so big could touch something so gently.

The conversation was light, easy, it astonished you how comfortable it was with him. He had a dry, sarcastic sense of humor which you loved, and he was incredibly good-natured. He told you stories that made you laugh until your sides hurt. With him, you smiled again, your heart lighter in every way, the horror and grief of the past weeks seeming to melt away.

The sun had begun to fade to grey as you drew closer to your destination, the breeze flowing through the car window causing you to shiver, even in his jacket.

“Are ye cold, lass? C’mere.” one hand came off the wheel to tuck you in next to him, his body warmth seeping into you. “Tha’ better?”

You looked up at him, his eyes off the road for a moment as he smiled down at you. Your belly twisted in a pleasant knot as you took in his shining eyes and bright teeth. He was so handsome it almost hurt to look at him. Not for the first time you wondered how you had gotten so lucky that this man had looked at you, that he loved you. You, just an ordinary girl who had never been anywhere, never done anything important.

Until now. You knew that Collins was the big adventure, he was what your small life had been leading up to, he was everything that you never knew you’d been waiting for. And he needed you, wanted you, it was that simple.

“What are ye starin at so intently luv?” he chuckled, his hand on your shoulder rubbing up and down to help keep you warm.

“You.” you stated, not taking your eyes off his face.

His breath puffed past his lips in a self conscious laugh, pink tinging his cheekbones.

“Would ye no rather look at the ocean?”

You shrugged. “No.”

He shook his head, cheeks reddening further. You leaned in closer, sliding an arm around his waist, your head on his shoulder. Watching the headlamps on the road, illuminating your way, you’d never felt more content.

“Almost there.” he said sometime later and you lifted your head to see town lights twinkling up ahead.

A sudden knot of anxiety gripped you as Jack parked and you both eased out of the car, you on rubbery legs. Nothing had been discussed about the practicalities, the expectations, you’d both just jumped up and run from London as though the devil himself was on your tail. The reality of what was happening had just hit you hard.

You weren’t married, were you going to share a room? A bed? What was he expecting? Were you ready for that, really? A million thoughts were running through your head as he came round to your door, offering his arm as he took the suitcases.

“Are ye ok?” He looked concerned, freeing his hands to run over your hair. “Ye can tall me if summun’s botherin ye.”

“I’m ok, I just…..need a moment.”

You leaned against the car, swaying, his hands steadying you. Through half-closed eyes you looked at him, seeing only concern, no irritation or impatience. His eyes told you that if you asked for a separate room then he would give you that, no questions asked. You didn’t want that, Jack wasn’t leaving your sight until the minute he had to return to base, of that you were going to make certain. This sudden trepidation was coming from your fear of the unknown, amplified by your tiredness. You’d been awake for so long that you weren’t even thinking straight.

“We should go in, Jack, before I fall asleep right here.”

“If I have tae carry ye then I will.”

“Won’t that get all the tongues wagging?” you laughed.

You leaned on his arm as you walked into the Inn, not taking in much of your surroundings. Your heart skipped into your stomach for a moment when Jack introduced you as Mrs. Collins before looking down at you adoringly. Those butterflies becoming rays of warmth that spread throughout your body as you held his gaze.

The discrete cough of the woman behind the desk broke the connection and you felt your cheeks burn as she smiled at you knowingly. The keys were handed over and Jack almost had to make good on his offer to carry you, your legs rubbery for another reason now. You had no idea how could be so calm, collected while you felt as though your every breath was being forced past a barrier of tension in your throat.

He ushered you into the room first, closing the door behind you and switching on the light. Your heart started hammering as you stared at the brass bed occupying the bulk of the room. Jack took the suitcases to the wardrobe, hanging clothes while you looked around, peeking into the bathroom with its huge bath, pulling the curtains across the window that looked out over the cliff.

Turning away you came face to face with the bed again, your heart calming just a little as you sat down. Barely biting back a moan the mattress sank beneath you, the softest one you’d ever felt.

“Did ye say summan?”

You shook your head, bending over to remove your shoes, toes wiggling in your stockings.  
What happened next?

Looking over you saw that Jack had finished putting clothes away and stood by the dresser, hands in his pockets, feet kicking against the carpet. His head was down, hair flopping over his brow, teeth biting at his bottom lip.

A knock at the door startled you and you turned on the bed to see it open, admitting the lady from downstairs.

“Well now, I thought you’d like a little something to eat after your journey, you both looked so pale and peaked. It’s not much, just some sandwiches and a little milk. Just enough to set you to rights again.”

She looked at you so kindly and you found yourself smiling back, something about the matronly woman that reminded you of your late mother. You felt secure in this moment, in this place, with these two people. Your heart rate slowed to normal as she left and Jack brought the tray over, setting it on the nightstand before sinking to sit on the radiator opposite you.

“Something wrong with the bed?” you quipped around mouthfuls of your sandwich.

“Jus warmin up me rear.”

“You’ll burn yourself, how will you explain to your superiors if you get a giant burn mark on your arse?”

“I’ll jus tell em ye burned me arse wi’ yer eyes when I got fresh wi’ ye.” he snorted.

“But you didn’t get fresh with me.” you laughed.

“Well gimme a minute woman, le a man eat first.”

His eyes caught yours, holding your gaze as he swallowed his food, smiling wolfishly while he sucked his fingers clean.

You gulped.

“Eat yer food Y/N, it’s gettin late.”

“Yes sir.” you gave a mock salute as he stood up, rolling his eyes.

He went into the bathroom while you finished your food, leaving the tray neatly outside the door. You sat on the bed again waiting, for what you didn’t know, listening to sound of water from behind the door. Your eyes felt heavy and the mattress was so soft you just wanted to float away on it.

He was kneeling in front of you when your eyes opened next, a towel draped around his neck, tie gone, shirt loosened.

“When was the last time ye slept?” his voice was so sweet, you wanted to curl up and just let it flow over you.

“Ummm, I think I got a few hours on Thursday morning after the sirens stopped.” you murmured, yawning.

“Y/N tha was two days ago.” he said sternly, his hands finding yours. “Come on ye lump, up wi’ ye.”

He tugged gently, pulling you to stand. You swayed on your feet and he steadied you.

“Don’t want to sleep.” you muttered.

“Too bad. Ye ain't doin anythin else tonight ‘cept gettin some rest.”

“But…..”

“No buts, do as y’ere told.”

“You’re really bossy, you know.” you pouted.

“Ye ain't seen nothin yet, luv. Now let's get ye tae bed.”

Your fingers went to the buttons on your dress, struggling to get them open between yawns. Jack moved to the other side of the room, pulling off his shirt and shrugging out of his suspenders. Your fingers stopped as you watched him, even in your exhausted state you couldn’t help but admire. Muscles rippled across his shoulders as he hunched to undo his trousers and you were caught. You’d never seen a man undress and you were fascinated by the movement of him, the power and strength he seemed to have, even out of his uniform.

Your mouth fell open as he pushed his trousers down over his legs, muscles in his thighs tightening as he bent down to retrieve them before folding them neatly. His fingers were grasping the hem of his undershirt when he realized he had an audience.

“Are ye sleepin in yer dress then, lass?”

“What?” you shook your head, blushing. “No, I ummmm…”

He chuckled, enjoying how flustered you were.

“Would ye like some help?”  
“Would I…?” Your brow furrowed, your sleep deprived brain brain seemed to be shutting down, at the worst possible moment.

“Why don ye sit down.”

That was a good idea, you thought, he had such good ideas. You sat down heavily, bouncing a little as you tried not to fall back. Jack kneeled in front of you again, his fingers deftly unbuttoning your dress all the way to your knees before sliding it down your arms. You shivered, sitting there in your slip, garters visible. There was more material covering you than your bathing suit but you still felt exposed, his blue eyes raking over you and taking everything in.

Your fingers twisted in your lap, shivering again as you felt his fingers at the top of your stockings.

“Relax Y/N, I’m no an animal who’s goin tae ravish ye in yer half unconscious state.”

“Oh.” Even to your ears, you sounded disappointed.

Jack shook his head, a laugh escaping as he freed your stockings from the garter, sliding each one slowly down your leg. When he was done he reached around your hips to unhook the belt, tossing it to the side. For a moment he rested his head on your thigh, hair tickling the now bare skin, his eyes staring up at you.

“I love ye.”

One hand found his cheek, stroking the evening roughened skin as you looked back down at him.

“I love you too.”

He stood, stopping to kiss you on the way up, fingers pulling pins from your hair and running his fingers through the loosened strands. You sighed, your head falling forward onto his belly, fighting to stay awake with him as your body began to give in.

Moments later you felt him lift you, pulling back the blankets and settling you down, head on the most comfortable pillow you’d ever felt. The mattress depressed behind you and you felt the length of his body slide against you, one arm sliding under your neck, fingers entangling themselves with yours. His other arm slid around your waist holding you close against him, his head resting against the crook of your neck, hot breath tickling your back.

“Stop fightin it lass. Jus go tae sleep, I’ll be here when ye wake up.”

“Promise? Promise this isn’t just a dream and I’m not going to wake up on that street, or realize I died there?”

There was a sharp intake of breath from him as your sleepy words registered their meaning.  
“I promise ye, mae love. It’s no a dream and ye’re no dead. This is real and nothin is goin tae happen tae ye, no as long as I’m here. I’ll protect ye. Ok.”

He pressed his lips against your neck, holding you tighter.

You were already fast asleep.


	7. How's Chances?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The time has come for Collins and his ladylove to take an important step.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I legitimately wrote this chapter 3 times because I hated it every time lol

WE’LL MEET AGAIN PART 7  
HOW’S CHANCES?

 

As Collins promised, he was there when you woke after a dreamless sleep. Blinking against the morning sun you turned on your side, the unusual feel of him beside you bringing you awake faster. His arm had served as your pillow all night and you brushed your cheek against his smooth skin as you moved to face him.

“Mornin lass.”

He was smiling down at you, obviously having been awake for some time. Hie head was propped up on his other arm and he shifted so your head rested on his shoulder, fingers rubbing your bare arm gently. His hair flopped softly over his forehead, his jaw darkened with shadow, his eyes still tired and dark.

“Did you even sleep?” you asked softly, reaching up to brush his hair aside.

“Some, yeah, don’ worry ‘bout me. I donnae sleep much.”  
“I don’t suppose you get much of a chance do you?”

“No really, no. But it’s okay. ‘Sides why would I wan’ tae sleep the day away when I’m wi’ you?”

You couldn’t help but blush, even though his words were innocent enough. The fact that you were lying, undressed in bed with him was very much at the forefront of your mind.

“What did you want to do today?”

“Eat.” he laughed, pushing back the blankets and standing up.

Self conscious, you pulled them back over yourself as you watched him walk around the room, admiring every inch of him. He pulled his uniform, coming to sit on the bed to put on his shoes. When he was done he casually rubbed his hand on your hip through the covers, leaning over to kiss your cheek.

“I’ll go get summan tae eat so ye can get dressed ye shy we thing.”

He chuckled as he left the room, making you miss him instantly. You hurried to change, splashing your face and cleaning your teeth. You were sitting on the bed trying to drag a brush through your hair when Collins returned with a tray.

“And she lives! Need some help there darlin.”

He put the tray down on the dresser, holding out a hand for the brush and turning you sideways. His hands were gentle as he pulled the brush through your hair, fingers gliding across the back of your neck, making you shiver.

“What did you scrounge up to eat?” you sighed as his palm slid down the length of your hair.

“Jus some bread, cheese and porridge.”

“Sounds wonderful.”

“Bacon. Tha’ would be better. When the war is over I’m goin tae spend a whole day eatin bacon.”

“Cream for me. I miss cream in my porridge and whipped cream on my cakes. And I miss cakes.” you moaned.

You spent a few minutes going back and forth adding new items to the list while eating your breakfast. Collins laughed in gales when you admitted you even missed brussel sprouts and you fake gagged when he explained to you what haggis was.

“I’m sorry Jack but that’s disgusting.” you snorted as his teeth tore into a piece of bread.  
“Is no as bad as ye think, really.”

“No, sorry, you lost me at sheep’s stomach.”

“Ma Mum puts so much garlic and herbs innit, ye canna taste anythin gross.”

 

“I wouldn’t want to kiss you after eating that.”

“Aye is tha’ so?” he muttered around his bread. “Well maybe I wouldna wan’ tae be kissing ye either.”

You shrugged as though it didn’t matter at all to you.

Collins growled, tackling you backwards, one leg slung over yours as he planted loud kisses to your face while you squirmed and shrieked with laughter.

“Do ye still not wan’ tae kiss me?” he laughed against your neck.

“You have a mouthful of bread!”

He swallowed quickly, eyes catching yours briefly before he pounced. His lips caught yours, crushing your mouths together, his fingers tangling in your hair. You couldn’t help but moan against him, instinctively pushing your body closer to his.

By the time he pulled away, both of you panting, he’d angled his body over yours, hand on your thigh as he moved it to cradle his hip. Your heart was hammering in your chest, your palm sliding down his cheek and neck.

“Thought tha’ might be the way of it.” he chuckled.

You slapped his arm, giggling.

“You’re awfully sure of yourself Jack Collins.”

“Only where ye’re concerned Y/N. Ye’re the only thing I’ve ever been really sure of. I’m so happy tha’ I meet ye.”

“When I saw you walk off the boat that night, I was gone. All I wanted was to hold you and try to make it better.”

“Ye did, ye haf no idea how much ye just bein there fer me helped. Le’s go fer a walk, yeah?”

He sat up, helping you smooth down your dress and into your long coat. When you tried to pull back your hair he stopped you, gently taking your hand and threading your fingers together.  
“Ye look perfect, jus the way ye are.”

Could he be any more amazing?

He could.

He kept your hand in his as you walked into the village, quietly chatting about your childhoods, taking in the view of cliffs and broody ocean. Between rationing and the call up there were few shops to visit, but Jack managed to procure a decent lunch at the local pub which you ate on a log facing the water.

“You could almost believe there’s no war, couldn’t you?”

Collins looked out over the sea, pensive and sad.

“It’s all such a fuckin waste Y/N. Hughes, Margot, they didna need tae die. Wha’ was it fer?”

“When war makes sense it will be the end of humanity. It will never be anything other than a waste.”

You sat silently for a while, your head on his shoulder as you took in the view. It was unspoken between you that neither of you mentioned a real life after the war, almost as if that would jinx things. It added a certain immediacy to your relationship, everything was here and now, living in the moment. You couldn’t even imagine a life after this, an end to it all. If you had to live an entire life in one week, well then that’s what you were going to do.

When you started to shiver, Collins headed back to the B&B and the warmth of your tiny room. No longer uncomfortable, you saw it as your refuge, the space where not even the war could touch you. In that room it was as if time was standing still.

Collins went into the bathroom and you heard the water for a bath running. A feeling of longing rushed over you, hot water was scarce in London and you hadn’t had a decent bath in almost two years. Looking at Jack’s tired eyes and lined face though, you knew he needed it more than you, at least right now. You let him go, sitting on the bed with a book you’d found, listening to the water splash gently.

“Y/N?”

“I’m right out here.”

“Can ye help me?”

You poked your head around the door, flushing when you saw his bare, wet shoulders, knees sticking up and rivulets of water dripping from his hair.

“I cannae get ma back, lass. Not since I got wiped out the other day.”  
“Wiped out?”

“Ehm, carshed, sorta.” he avoided your eyes as fear and anger propelled you into the bathroom.

“Jack Collins were you in a plane crash that you didn’t tell me about?”

Looking downcast he squeezed the flannel in his hands.

“A couple.”

“How many is a couple?”

“Since Dunkirk?”

“Sure, since Dunkirk.”

“Five.”

“Oh my God!” you felt your knees buckle.

“It’s no tha’ bad. I only had tae bail out one time. Ma parachute jerked the wrong way and I got injured. It go’ me the week tae spend wi’ ya.”

“Let me see.”

With a nod, Collins sat up in the tub, leaning forward so his back was exposed. With a gasp you knelt by him, your fingers tracing the obvious pattern of angry purple and black bruising. There was no way it didn’t hurt, it must have been agony and yet he’d not given you so much as a hint of this. TEars slid silently down your cheeks as you took the flannel from him, gently running it over his skin, trying not to imagine the terrifying scenario that had led to this.

“I’s no as bad as it looks Y/N, honestly.”

“It looks like you almost died, Jack.”

“Didna even come close ma love, it was the plane. There wasna any Germans around fer miles. She was just done fer.”

You nodded, a sob escaping as you tried to pull yourself together.

“Hey now.” Collins leaned over the side of the tub, wet hand cupping your cheek. “Is okay.” He urged you closer, forehead pressing against yours as he took the flannel from your clenched fingers.

You could feel the heat rising from the bathwater, his breath on your cheek, the smooth skin of his arm under your hand. Heart pounding in your chest you took a deep breath, a decision made. Live a whole life in one week, no regrets, no holding back.

Standing, you caught his gaze, held it as your fingers moved to the buttons of your dress, swiftly opening them. Collins’ sharp intake of breath and the flare of his eyes was his only response as you pulled it off, tossing it onto the pile of his uniform. Your hands shook as you let your slip slide off your shoulders, letting it pool around your feet. Left only in a bralette and knickers your bravery began to wane. Collins’ eyes hadn’t left you, his fingers gripped the side of the tub as his breathing shallowed out.

As if he sensed your nervousness he smiled, holding out a hand for you to take.

“Come here tae me.”

You did, allowing him to guide you into the hot water as he positioned you against his body, legs on either side of you as you leaned back against his chest. With a sigh you settled against him, the water’s warmth seeping into you. You relaxed against him, his fingers brushing your hair to the side, trailing down your arms to play with your fingers.

“I love you.” you murmured, his lips blazing a path across your cheek.

“Ah love ye too Y/N.”

The two of you lay soaking in the tub until the water began to cool. At your first shiver Collins leaned you forward so he could climb out, grabbing a towel to wrap around his waist.

You watched him the whole time, teeth worrying your bottom lip as you took in the lean lines of his body. Muscles rippled under pale skin as he moved and you couldn’t help but admire him. He really was beautiful.

“Are ye gettin out or did ye plan on becomin a prune.” he chuckled, holding a towel for you as you stood up out of the water.

Collins’ eyes flared as he looked you up and down and you blushed angrily, realising the bath had made your undergarments completely transparent. He quickly took pity on you, leaning over you to wrap you up, picking you up in his arms despite his injury. Shivering in your wet things you burrowed against his bare chest for warmth, hair tickling your face. He carried you as though you weighed nothing, warmth radiating from him making you feel safe, secure and comforted.

He laid you down gently across the bed, settling himself down beside you, arm under your head, fingers running up and down your arm. For long minutes you just lay there, staring at one another. You took in every inch of his face, memorizing every line and mark, storing it away for when he was gone again.

He was waiting for you, would do nothing without your permission or encouragement, a gentleman to the core under that rakish smile. You hesitated a moment but you knew, you had decided how far this would go the moment you’d agreed to come away with him and set in motion when you’d stepped into the tub. You knew what you wanted, how you felt but you weren’t entirely sure what you needed to do.

A deep breath, a shiver as a draft hit you, Collins pulling you closer until you could hear his heartbeat in your ear. In a moment of bravery you shifted your head, gliding your lips over his skin, hair tickling your nose. You felt his breath catch, his fingers tensing on your arm.

“We don’t haf tae ye know.” he murmured, rubbing his nose against your hair.

“I know, Jack.” you brushed your mouth along his collarbone, smiling when you felt him shiver.

“I jus don wan’ ye tae think that’s what this week is about.”

“I’m sure. So, so very sure.”

Collins bit his lip.

You looked up at him.

His hand moved, sliding up your neck to cup your cheek.

Time stood still for a moment.

“Do ye wan’ me?” he whispered, running his thumb across your mouth and burning you with his eyes.

You could only nod silently, refusing to look at his eyes, though you definitely saw his smile and your heart stopped beating. He traced a finger down the side of your neck and down your arm until he was grasping your fingers in his own. You felt your hand being lifted, felt him stroking his fingers over your palm before placing it against his chest, right over his beating heart.

“Put your hands on me then.”

It was quiet but unquestionably an order and your eyes flew up to his as you gasped. He took his hand from yours and gripped the back of your neck, this time yanking you toward him bringing his mouth down hard against yours. It took less than a heartbeat to respond and then throw your arm around his neck, pulling him even closer as you devoured each other. He had one hand still on your neck as he shifted his weight.

Your kiss broke as you tried to catch your breath, a quick gasp before you quickly pulled him back again your teeth nipping at his mouth, your fingers digging into his chest.

He moaned loudly when you sucked his tongue into your mouth and he pulled away again, watching you as you both panted.

“God lass.” he groaned as he leaned his head against your shoulder. “Do ya haf any idea what ye do tae me?” As if you drive his point home he gripped your hips and ground up against you.

“I’m sorry.” you whispered, pressing your lips to his bare shoulder.

“Sorry?” he kissed the hollow beneath your ear, then scraped his teeth on your earlobe, causing you to shudder violently. “Why?” he sucked it gently between his teeth then blew softly. “Would ye be sorry?”

His hand covered yours again, moving so your palm stroked across his chest, then down, your fingers trailing through his hair, feeling his muscles tense as you passed. When your hand brushed against his towel he left it, not moving. Just breathing. It seemed to be your choice now, to go forward or to step back. You’d felt him pressed against you and he certainly appeared to want you as much as you wanted him. Taking a deep breath, your fingers grazed downward, brushing ever so lightly over the front of the towel and stroking back up with your knuckles.

He started shaking and for a moment you were afraid you’d done the wrong thing. You were about to pull your hand away when he grabbed your wrist, holding it in place.

“No.” he held your hand against him for a moment before he suddenly dropped it.

He looked at you then, catching your eyes and allowing you to see every emotion coursing through him. Desire, hunger, uncertainty. You nodded, showing him you understood and he smiled, leaning down to kiss your nose, cheek and then your lips.

Risking yourself, you kissed him again and again, pushing against him so not even a breath of air could come between you. Your fingers tangled in his damp hair, trapping him where you wanted him. Finally pulling away, he looked down at you and smiled, thumb stroking across your collarbone. You ran your fingers over his neck, he needed to shave, his stubble prickly against your skin.

You leaned up and placed your lips on the spot where his neck met his shoulder and continued up, leaving little wet marks as you went. You kissed beneath his jaw, flicking out your tongue to taste his skin, your breath making him shiver.

“Tha’ tickles.” he sighed as his skin broke out in goose pimples.

Smiling to yourself you kept on at him, desperate to know if the skin on his neck tasted any different to the skin on his shoulders. It didn’t, not even at the hollow of the base of his throat where your mouth seemed to drive him crazy. When your lips touched it, he sighed, when you ran your tongue over it he groaned. When you did it again he buried his face in your neck, tugging on your towel until he could run his lips over the bare skin of your shoulder.  
You turned your head so you could keep pressing kisses against his neck while his tongue raked over your skin. It was your turn to shiver, your time to moan. His fingers came up to your chin and traced down your throat, down your chest to where they were hampered by your towel. Your hand clutched at his shoulder before your nails raked down his arm, relishing the feel of the hair that covered it.

Your towel fell open and with his nose he pushed wet silk aside, pressing hot kisses to the even hotter skin of your chest, his actions encouraged by the sounds that escaped your throat. Your fingers trailed over his chest again while your tongue traced a line across his collarbone.

“God!” the sound was wrenched from his throat as his hands started to move with urgency. He yanked the towel away, shoving it off the bed to the floor. With one finger he traced the low neck and straps of your bra, every few inches letting his finger slide beneath the damp fabric.

“Ye’re so beautiful Y/N.” he whispered huskily as his eyes raked over you, noticing how the silk clung to you like a second skin.

He grinned wickedly, you sucked in a breath as his index finger hooked beneath your strap and gently slid it off your shoulder.

He smoothed the palm of his hand over your chest and briefly over your breast where you knew he felt your nipple pressing against him. Moving his hand slightly, his thumb pressed against it as he circled it slowly, watching as you hardened even more with his touch. He slid his hand to the other side to tease moaning low in the back of his throat when you shivered, instinctively arching yourself toward his hand as his mouth found yours again.

Your hands were on his stomach, his waist, anywhere his skin had been bared. His hand moved suddenly, stroking up and down your sides, sliding under the band to your back, unhooking the garment. He moved his lips from yours for half a second as he opened it, pulling it over your head, taking over your mouth again while he threw it aside. The tips of his fingers began to move, tracing from the insides of your wrists, down your arms, across your collarbone and gently, almost reverently over your breasts, once, twice, three times.

You started moving your mouth across his chest, marking the trail you took with your tongue. His hands stayed at your breasts, his teeth nipped at your shoulder, his hips circling against you. You could feel him against you, hot, hard, ready, there was no doubt that he wanted you. You pushed your hips against his instinctively, relishing the feel of him digging into you as you moved. When you started biting at his skin you could have sworn that he growled. You knew he did when you scraped his nipple with your tongue and teeth.

He panted your name in your ear, running his hands down to your rear and sliding down to your thighs, encouraging you to lay back, wrapping your legs around his waist. He moved his hands to rest by your head and lowered himself down on top of you. You gasped when you felt the heat of him between your legs, pushing your body into the bed as he looked down at you.  
“Hi baby.” he grinned, leaning on one hand and brushing your cheek with the knuckles of the other.

“Hey.” you whispered, gazing at his face in wonder while your teeth worried your bottom lip. Your hands were resting on the edge of the towel at his hips and the hair on his chest tickled your skin pleasantly. You loved the weight of him, the heat of him burning against you. You always felt so small next to him and under him was no exception.

“Are ye ok?” his eyes were begging for you to be ok with him, to trust him enough to let him take you further.

As an answer you brought your hands up to his face, brushing your thumbs under his eyes and bringing him down for a tender kiss. You willed him to feel everything you felt for him through your lips and into his. You kissed his upper lip, sucked his bottom lip between your teeth, caressing the inside of his mouth with your tongue.  
He rolled off you to lay at your side, never breaking your kiss, his fingers stroking your neck gently, yours doing the same as your breath quickened. One of his legs was lying between yours, draped across your hip casually. He hand his hand down the front of you again, gently tracing his fingers over your stomach, causing your muscles to clench. He poked at your navel causing you to giggle into his mouth. You felt his lips curve into a smile as he started down your neck, to your shoulder and across your collarbone.

Sliding over you a little more, he left a damp trail along your breastbone, a finger moving gently back and forth just under the waistband of your knickers. The soft hair that fell over his forehead tickled your skin as he moved down, placing wet kisses on your ribcage and back again.

“Jack….” you sighed as he lifted his head to look at you again.

He smiled softly. This time when he swooped down it was with clear intent and you moaned before his lips even came close to touching you.

There was no teasing this time, he found his target instantly. His mouth covered your breast, his tongue rasping over the nipple. Your back arched off the bed, his mouth was hot and wet and when he sucked your nipple between his teeth you cried out as sparks shot down, heat pooling between your thighs. One of his hands ran down your side, tracing delicate patterns on your ribs. He brought it back to your breast when he moved to the other side, rubbing the nipple with his thumb while he sucked the other into his mouth. Smiling against your skin as you groaned loudly he simply held you down with his leg, ensuring your couldn’t move an inch.

He started kissing a trail down your body, gliding his tongue over your ribs, along the edge of your underwear and up again. His tongue flicked into your navel once, before he blew gently on the spot, causing your whole body to start shuddering.

His name on your lips was a blissful sigh.

He rose up, bringing both hands to your body. His lips captured yours again, his fingers leaving no inch of skin untouched. Your head was foggy, the only thoughts you had were of him and what he was doing to you. The only thing you could feel was him.

You brought your hands to his shoulders, pushing against him and raising yourself up. He let you push him back onto the bed so you loomed above him, legs tangled together, his hands still on you. He smiled up as you started running your fingers over the front of him, relishing in the feel of every contour, every hair, every quivering muscle. Every single inch of him was yours to explore. You rubbed your knuckles over his lower belly, sliding your fingers under his towel. Your lips found his neck, loving that he turned his head to the side so you could gain better access to his skin.

Your tongue traced every inch of his neck, moving behind his ear before you bit down gently on his earlobe.

“Ouch!” he chuckled.

“Just making sure you’re still awake.” you whispered in his ear, blowing gently on his neck.

“Ahm, I’m most definitely awake lass.” he cooed, tickling your belly with his fingers.

Sliding down slightly you started kissing along his breastbone, tasting every inch of skin you could find. You felt his hips moving, pushing toward you and you felt daring sudden;y. Your fingers slid further under his towel and his breath quickened into hard pants when you made short work of the knot. His hands slipped off you to lay uselessly on the bed as you tugged at the towel, sliding it off his hips. Your pressed your mouth to the soft area just below his navel, kicking it away onto the floor.

Conversations with Dolores and Della had filled in any gaps in your limited education but the reality was unnerving to say the least.

You looked him up and down, eyes raking hotly over him from the tips of his toes to the top of his head. You loved him. You knew what you wanted.

“You know…” you said between planting kisses along his stomach. “You are..” you slid your tongue over his navel. “The most amazing…..” your lips moved over his hip bone and he bucked against you. “Man I’ve ever met.” Your fingers traced down the front of him and he whimpered, palm sliding down as you dragged yourself up his body, capturing his lips again, swallowing his growl as your fingers grasped at him.

“Hi handsome.” you whispered, your lips grazing over his cheeks.

“Hey there beautiful.” He tangled his fingers in your hair, pulling you to him and kissing you hard, his tongue scraping over the roof of your mouth. His hips rolled against your hand, your fingers sliding over the length of him, each movement causing him to jerk and shudder.  
Lifting your head you looked at him in wonder. In all your imaginings, your mind had never even come close to how gorgeous he really was, how he made you feel, how just the idea of him made your heart clench and twist.

Leaning down you traced a fingertip over the tops of his feet, gently around his ankle, stroking up his leg, his calf, drawing little circles on his knee and then scraping fingernails up the inside of his thigh. He just about jumped off the bed when your mouth followed the path of your finger, tongue leaving a wet trail from his ankle to his hip and back again. One hand still covered him, gliding gently up and down the smooth, hot length of him. Your fingernails traced little patterns around the tip as he moaned loudly, hands grasping at the blankets beneath him.

Looking up at him you saw his eyes were squeezed shut, his cheeks flushed and his teeth gnawing on his lip. His neck was arched and every muscle in his upper body was rigid and tight. It was a beautiful sight, knowing that you were responsible. You started kissing along his hip again, this time with a clear purpose in mind, though you were taking your time in getting there, nerves warring with desire.

Finally you made your move, your fingers sliding from him to be replaced with your tongue. The instant you stroked against him he let out a strangled cry, launching his hips from the bed and almost throwing you to the floor. Using all the strength you had, you placed your hands on his hips and held him down while your tongue ran wetly over every hot inch of him. As you stroked along the tip you looked up to find him looking down at you, nothing but pure pleasure in his eyes as he panted your name. You grinned quickly, empowered, and with your eyes still on him you opened your mouth and drew him inside.

“Fuck!” his head flew back again, eyes rolling and he started thrashing as you pulled him in again and again. 

His body started twitching, his hands were in your hair as he muttered, begging, praising.

“Don’ stop.”

“So good.”

“Jus’ like tha’.”

He pulled you away suddenly.

“Stop, luv, ye haf tae stop.” he panted, rolling you onto your back.

He ran gentle fingers over the front of your underwear. His head came down to your hips as he stroked his tongue beneath the lace trim, one finger exploring, pressing against you, stroking and teasing. He took one side of the garment in his teeth, the other in his hand and pulled down, removing the last barrier and leaving you naked to his gaze. There was a predatory gleam in his eyes as he looked you up and down, taking in your wild eyes, flushed skin and every other detail of your body. One hand moved gently between your thighs, sliding and rubbing until your hips began to roll, legs falling apart at his barest urging, your whole body on fire.

He moved to kneel between your legs, the sight of his hands on your inner thighs driving you almost insane with want as his lips ran over your stomach, your hips, your legs, until finally….

“God Jack!” you hissed as you felt the heat of his mouth between your thighs, bucking your hips against him as his wet tongue started moving against you. Bolts of heat shot out through your body. Never had you imagined a pleasure like this.

Collins kept one hand gently caressing your thigh while the fingers of his other hand gently explored the places his mouth was moving against. You started whimpering when he dipped the tip of one finger just inside you, pulling away and coming back several times as you shuddered, tugging at his hair viciously. You let out a yelp when he came back, finger sliding deeper, the sensation new, pleasant and intimate.

You panted and writhed, every nerve-ending on fire, heat radiating from the point between your thighs where his tongue scraped, lips suckd and teeth nipped. His finger was joined by another, slowly stretching you inside, brushing against a spot that made you cry out, stars exploding behind your eyes. You were on the brink of something, a feeling you chased with your body, spurred on his his every movement.

There was a moment, your body went rigid, taut as a bowstring. You looked down, the sight of his mussed, damp blonde hair between your open thighs, sending you over the edge.

You flew.

Your body trembled and shook. Your moaned and panted his name over and over as you crashed back to earth.

He pulled away, rising up over your body until his face was once again buried against your neck, hips rolling against yours, both wanting the same thing.

Collins leaned over to the nightstand, coming back with a small packet in his fingers. With red cheeks he avoided your your eyes for a minute, his hands doing something between his legs that you couldn't see. When he was done he moved over you again, one hand against your cheek.

“Are ye absolutely sure lass? I don’ wan tae hurt ya.”

“Only the first time. I want this.”

Nodding, he used his other hand to guide himself to the right spot. He pushed forward gently, only a fraction. You closed your eyes as you felt him move, arching your neck with a sigh.

“Open yer eyes.” he whispered.  
You nodded, looking into his eyes as he pushed forward again, slowly, meeting resistance.

“I’m sorry baby.”

Your groaned together as he jerked forward, filling you, a sharp pain making you tense as your body struggled to adjust to the sensation of his body inside you. Sweat had beaded on his brow and you reached up to wipe it away, tangling your fingers in his hair.

“Please don’ close em.” he murmured, brushing your cheeks gently. 

He moved a little, pulling out a bit and you gasped. He stopped instantly, looking concerned.

“Am I hurtin ya?”

“No. I just never, I never imagined it could be like this.”

You couldn’t find the words to describe how it felt, how incredible this new sensation was to you.

Collins smiled down at you in wonder as you tested yourself, squeezing your muscles to feel him, making him groan loudly. He took your movements as assent and slowly began to move, pulling out, easing back in, making you sigh with every motion inside you.

He never let you look away from him, with every motion of his hips you could see his reaction and he yours. Pressing one hand against the headboard for leverage, he took you in a slow, rhythmic, rocking possession. Whatever else he felt at that moment, you could sense this was a primitive claim of rights, you were HIS, in every way. Feeling welled inside you as your hands moved to grasp at his back, feeling his muscles ripple with every thrust of his body. You arched your hips against him, pulling him deeper, freely giving yourself over to him wanting him to feel what you felt.

You cried out as your body gave over to him, your eyes fluttering closed. You felt him still as you shuddered and clutched at him. He watched you, took pleasure in your obvious enjoyment of him. When you came back it was to his eyes, their blue depths blazing into you as he stroked your face.

“Are you ready?” he whispered, sighing when you nodded, moving your hands to grasp at his hips, urging him to move again.

He thrust against you, harder than before, his hands still at your face, head against your chest. His hips ground into you, one hand sliding to your rear, pulling you up against him. His sweat fell onto your skin, making you both slick. His every thrust was now punctuated by a grunt, a shudder, a groan. The noises he made in his pleasure made you shiver again, feeling the tension starting to rise.

You began to whisper his name in his ear, like a mantra, panting it out time and time again.

“Jack. Jack. Jack.”

With each breathless whisper he would push harder, faster encouraged by your pleasure in him.

“Lass, God!” he ground out.

His head angled back, a deep hard thrust penetrated you. He stilled, deep inside you. Tension hardened his muscles under your hands, and then he shuddered, once, twice, groaning loudly and sending you over the edge again, crying out his name.

You lay together, silent but for the sound of each other’s struggling breaths. You were happily crushed under his weight as his head rested against your breasts where he could feel the pounding of your heart. His arms were wrapped tight around your waist, remaining inside you, keeping you joined as close as two people could possibly be.

Eventually he raised his head and kissed you gently, deeply, with a new intimacy, a new knowledge of one another. You felt it right down to your toes and you sighed happily, content. 

“Y/N?”

“Mmm hmmm?” you murmured, playing with his hair.

“Do ya think ya might marry me?”

“Jack Collins, I thought you would never ask.”


	8. Those Were The Days

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A mistake is made, the parents are met and we are having a wedding.

WE’LL MEET AGAIN PART 8  
THOSE WERE THE DAYS

Almost three days passed in a haze of affection, passion and comfort. Once your initial feelings of trepidation had been unfounded your ease around Jack simply grew. He was amazingly attentive, and caring. He hadn’t taken you again for a full day after the first time, instead helping you soak in a hot bath to ease any residual pain. Then he’d held you in his arms, fingers stroking your arm as you both talked, baring your souls and all your secrets. By the time the sun had set again and Collins had rolled onto his back, pulling you onto him there wasn’t a thing that he didn’t know about you. He had even cried with you when you told him how Margot had died and your guilt in sending her to get help, an action which had spared your life. He hadn’t tried to tell you that you shouldn’t feel guilty, instead he had pulled you closer, cradling your head in the crook of his neck as you bawled. 

That you both felt such guilt over your actions during that awful day was something that seemed to draw you even closer, no one else could understand as well. You knew without a doubt that Collins would always understand your dark moments, when the memory of Margot would rear its head, just as you knew you would understand his. The death of Hughes and Margot were memories that would never go away and this time with Jack simply helped to prove that it was ok. That everything you felt, good or bad was ok. You both deserved to live, and to grab at happiness for however long you had.

On the morning of the fourth day you woke with the sun, watching your love sleep beside you, the light gilding his lashes as they fluttered against his cheeks. Your throat convulsed as you fought back tears, the sight of him sometimes just overwhelming you. He was, simply put, beautiful. That he was, for any amount of time, yours, was something you honestly couldn’t even comprehend. Just as you couldn’t even begin to quantify the love you felt for him.

He was, simply, everything.

“Are ye watchin me sleep?” One blue eye opened to catch you staring at him. “There’s an ocean out tha window, why bother watchin me?”

He chuckled, sliding an arm around your waist and snuggling closer, his hair soft against your skin as he pressed his lips against the bare skin of your shoulders.

“I like looking at you.”

“Am I abou tae marry a daft woman then?”

“Quit it, you silly man.” you laughed, threading your fingers through the silken strands of his hair, loving the way it glinted in the sunlight.

“Oh, silly am I?” his fingers found your ribs, tickling you while you squirmed and jerked, gales of giggles escaping your lips. 

Collins grinned as you struggled, using his body to hold you down while his hands tortured you.

“Ok, ok!” you managed to choke out between laughs. “I give, you win, you aren’t silly.”

His response was to take your breath away, his lips smashing against yours as his fingers spread over your sides stroking the skin softly. Lifting his head he shifted, holding himself up on his elbows, fingers tangling in your hair. 

“I love ye, Y/N whether yer daft or no.” he rubbed his nose against yours, his hair falling forward over your face.

“That’s good to know, because I rather think you're stuck with me now Jack Collins.” you giggled, wrapping your arms around his neck.

He shifted, lowering his body to cover yours, pressing his lips against yours to swallow your gasp as he entered you with one smooth thrust of his hips. You made love in the sunlight, every inch of his skin now as familar to you as your own and so much more precious to you. There was a spot, right at the back of his neck where hair met skin that when you ran your hand over it made Collins shiver. Another spot on his scalp that made him purr when you scratched your fingers through the strands of his blond hair. 

He knew just where to touch you to get the response he wanted, had learned the ins and outs of what gave you pleasure and used the knowledge thoroughly. Lacing his fingers with yours he raised your arms above your head, stretching your body under his as you both moved together. Grunts and pants were met with staccato whispers as you told him you loved him with every slide of his body inside you.

Later, the sun fully risen in the sky he lifted his head from your shoulder, lips brushing over your check, pushing damp strands of hair off your face. Easing out of you with a grunt he reached down to grab...his eyes snapping up to yours, startled and nervous.

“We forgot summan.”

“Hmmmmm?” you stretched leisurely as he rolled over beside you. “Forgot what?”

“Condom.” he all but whispered, his voice tight as a jolt of trepidation shot through you.

The conversation surrounding the box of them he’d packed had been only slightly less awkward than the use of them. He’d explained that they were issued to every serviceman after you’d teased him about being a ‘'man about town’. His cheeks had been so red when he’d told you that too many soldiers had gotten the clap during World War One and boxes of condoms were now standard military issue. Honestly you had just been thankful he’d known to have them, unsure as you still were about the future.

There was no escaping a talk about that now.

“I’m sorry, lass, ahm such an idiot.”

“Don't, it wasn't just your fault. Besides we don't know, it may be nothing.”

“What if it is, summan? How would ye feel about tha?”

You didn't even have to think about it. Rolling onto your side you placed your hand against his cheek, thumb brushing the skin as his head nuzzled into your palm. 

“I would be happy.”

“Ye would? Ye mean it?”

“I do. I know we've never talked about it but I want children with you. A little boy with your golden hair and blue eyes. Or a little girl who clings to your leg everytime you move.”

The look on his face was one of relief as he let loose the breath he'd been holding. Joy filled his eyes as he crushed you to him.

“I wan tha too lass, so much its no even funny. But I had thought tae wait till the war was over. I dinna wan ye saddled with a bairn if summan happens tae me.”

“Don't say that.” you choked, tears leaking from behind your lids as you held his as tightly as you could. 

“Darlin, it's summan we have tae talk about. Ye know wha I do out there, ye know how dangerous it is.”

“I know, but I just can't bear to think about anything happening to you. I don't want to imagine what it would be like without you. But if, if…..” you couldn't even make the words push past the convulsing in your throat. “Your child wouldn't be a burden on me, it would be a blessing. Nothing could ever make me regret having a child with you.”

“God I really am marryin a daft woman.” he laughed, the sound cutting through the dark atmosphere surrounding you.

The sun still shone, the radiator kicked out a wave of warmth, wafting over you. He was in your arms now, and that was all that mattered.

“What time is the train?”

“About 11.” he murmured, fingers tracing patterns over your shoulder as you snuggled your head against his chest, his heartbeat loud and strong in your ear. “Why?”

“No reason, it’s just that it's gone 10.”

You chuckled as he jumped swiftly out of bed, pulling the sheet around yourself as he dashed to the wardrobe, naked, fishing out clothing.

“I’ll never hear the end o it if I’m no there tae meet them. Me da loves tae tease me that the RAF finally made me able tae keep time.” he was shrugging into his shorts and undershirt, chuckling to himself as you watched, enjoying the opportunity to just drink him in.

“Are ye goin tae get dressed, lass or were ye plannin tae meet me parents naked?”

“I don't think they'd enjoy that too much.” you laughed. “I'm just enjoying the view for a few minutes.”

You laughed as his cheeks flushed pink, his fingers fumbling with the buttons on his shirt. He was shit at tying his tie so he came and sat beside you, hand stroking your thigh gently as you did it for him, pecking you on the cheek as you walked past him to gather your own clothing. 

You washed quickly in the bathroom, feeling a twinge of something in your stomach as you cleaned away the evidence of the mistake made. No, not a mistake, you told yourself as you slipped into your dress, an accident maybe but you could never bring yourself to believe that anything that came from your relationship with Jack Collins was a mistake. Whatever happened you would never regret it, even if it did mean bringing a child into the world during a war.

Jack slipped behind you, brushing his teeth as you brushed your hair. He smiled at you in the tiny mirror, reaching out to twirl it around his fingers before you swept it up into a knot. Taking advantage of your bare neck he scattered soft kisses all over the exposed skin, his hands splaying across your lower belly.

“I love ye.” he whispered, stepping back out into the bedroom to put on his jacket and coat.

He helped you into your coat, buttoning it up for you despite your protests that you could handle the buttons. Jack simply laughed, swatting your hands away and pulling your closer by the lapels, kissing the bridge of your nose. You smoothed his hair off his brow, brushing his shoulders. He hadn't shaved in a few days and you knew he was supposed to, even though you liked the roughness and the ginger of os ingrowing beard. You made a note to help him with that later, much much later.

The train was, surprisingly, on time and Collins could barely contain his excitement as he rocked back and forth. You were excited to meet the people who were responsible for his existence, but terrified as well. What if they didn't like you? In their defence they knew nothing about you at all, you could be any opportunistic young woman trying to trap a young man. Would Collins then be convinced of the same? That thought hurt. 

“Ma!Da!” Jack was jumping next to you, gaining the attention of the older couple disembarking.

Their faces lit up at the sight of their son and they rushed toward you, tears streaming unabashedly down their cheeks. You took a step back as they crashed into him, everyone's arms around each other, his mother sobbing as her hands went to his face, checking him over, her baby. Her child who was a good foot taller than her and swooped her up his his arms, spinning her as she scolded him for looking too skinny.

His father looked at you with a smile and shrugged as his wife wiped some imaginary dirt of Jack’s face while he pretended to scowl.

“They’ll be a tha fer a while, missus has tae make sure he’s all in one piece. I’m his Da, Andrew.”

He held out a hand for you to shake, a good strong grip, rough calluses and all. He held your hand as he perused you, taking your measure and despite your trembling legs you met his gaze unflinchingly. Still, you couldn't hide the puff of breath that escaped when he pulled you in for a hug.

“M mighty glad tae meet ye, lassie. Mighty glad indeed. Me lad writes o nothin else.”

“He’s told me a lot about you both, he loves you very much.”

“Aye well he's a fine lad, brave enough tae volunteer fer the RAF, even though we didnae wan him tae. “

“He’s a hero.”

“Mebe, but he’s still always goin tae be that wee boy chasin chickens in his Sunday best while his Ma scolded him.”

That was a vision that warmed you and your hand unconsciously went to your stomach, the possibility of a mini Collins tugging at your heart.

“Ma, leave off an come meet Y/N.” he laughed as she lectured him about his beard.

Pulling his mother over to where you stood with Andrew, Jack looked down at you both fondly, a huge smile spreading over his face. You barely noticed his Dad take him aside, wrapping him in a hug.

He looked like his mother, right down to the huge blue eyes and strawberry hair. You let her look you up and down, her Mum eyes taking in every detail from your head to your toes. 

“Yer a pretty wee thing. Jacky tells me ye met after tha Dunkirk fiasco.”

“I was there when they came off the boats. I drive him back to his base.” you said it quietly, not knowing how much he’d told them. 

The woman moved so fast you didn't know what had hit you as she enveloped you in a hug so tight you were afraid she might break a bone.

“Thank ye. Thank ye fer being someone ma baby could turn tae after that. I’m so happy he's no alone.”

It took you all of a second to hug her back, your arms sliding around her as she rocked you in her arms, crying as you now were. When she pulled away finally you felt emotion swell in your chest. Andrew and Jack looked on, tears streaming down the older man's cheeks, the younger fighting back his own. 

“Me name is Helen, but ye can call me ma.”

“Ma.” you tried it on your tongue. It felt right. 

Looking around you knew with certainty that these were your people, this was your family now and you were theirs. Your family had been gone for 10 years and you'd been alone since you were 16. This was the first time since you were a child that you had felt the warmth of a parent’s love.

Jack Collins had brought you home.

“So em, wasnae there a special event ye asked us tae come down fer?”

Jack looked at his father, a blush spreading over his cheeks.

“Yeah, we should go do tha after some lunch, I know Y/N wans tae wear summan nice.”

His parents were to be installed in a room downstairs and Jack started to climb the stairs to your room before his Ma stopped him.

“Ye can wait wi yer Da, we ladies will get ourselves ready.”

Any protest he might have made was stopped dead by the stern look on Helen’s face.

“Yes ma’am.” he mumbled, looking at you longingly. 

This was the longest you had gone without touching in days and it was killing you too, but you desperately wanted to get to know Helen better. She followed you up the stairs chuckling as you reached the door to your room.

“Tha boy, lookin at ye like he cannae breathe without ye, he’s his father’s son.” she noticed your hesitation. “Relax dearie, I’ll no be judgin ye fer sharin a room. I did the same wi his Da during the last War. There’s no shame in love.”

For an hour you talked, Helen had you take a bath, helped you wash your hair and pulled a lovely blue and white silk frock from her bag.

“I didnae know if ye had anythin, I never had a weddin dress but I wore this a few years ago fer our anniversary. I think it will fit.”

“Its lovely.” you murmured, letting her slide it on, swiftly closing the delicate buttons up the back. Your hands smoothed the silk against your skin, the dress almost a perfect fit, leaving bare your collarbone. The skirt slithered smoothly to your knees, flaring up when you spun. It was simple and lovely and you had never worn anything so fine.

Helen deftly piled your hair, braiding it onto your head, and pinning it.

“I always wanted a daughter, but we only ever had Jack. He was our miracle baby. But now we have ye, so it's alright.”

“You don't know anything about me though.”

“I know ma son loves ye, Jack has always been a good judge o character. Tha’s enough fer me.”

You turned, hugging her around the waist, understanding now how Collins had come to be such a good man with parents like these. They had welcomed you without hesitation or judgement, loved you simply because their son did. No matter what happened you would make sure you never let them down.

Poor Jack looked like he was chomping at the bit by the time you made it downstairs, you saw him pacing back and forth, his brow furrowed with worry. At your appearance he stopped,gazing up at you with the widest smile you’d ever seen.

“I was afraid ye were runnin away ye were gone so long.”

“Right, your mum and I were going to abandon you, silly man.” you scoffed softly.

“Good thing yer daft then so we're a great pair.” he pulled you close, leaning down to kiss you gently, ignoring the chuckles of his parents. “Shall we go do this?”

The registrar's office was a tiny stone building on the town square, sandwiched between a pub and a butcher. The license had been obtained by Jack before you left London and all you’d had to do was sign it in surprise before you went in front of the officiant. The ceremony itself was simple and short. You didn't mind, there was no real need for anything more, you both knew how you felt, that you saw your future together and that was all you needed.

You did cry when Helen handed Collins a box containing two rings.

“They belonged tae me grandparents.” he explained, sliding a delicate sapphire onto your finger.

His grandfather's ring was slid down the length of his finger, sitting beneath your fingers as you twisted it during the rest of the ceremony. He was yours, you were his, for as long as you lived. Your kiss was hurried as you were ushered out to admit a new visitor and you exited the building in a daze. 

You were married. The gorgeous, tall man in the spotless blue uniform beside you was your husband. Your heart swelled and for a moment you couldn't breathe over the rush of happiness. Helen and Andrew stepped ahead, eyes on the pub for a celebration. Looking up at Jack you grinned before burrowing yourself under his arm to wrap your arms around his waist as you walked.

“How do ye feel, Mrs. Collins?”

“Like I could fly.”

You yelped as he swung you suddenly, hoisting you up in his arms, mouth covering yours. Hot, desperate and hungry his tongue slid over yours, a promise of the night to come. In an instant your body was on fire and you barely resisted the impulse to wrap your legs around his waist and beg him to take you back to the room.

A cough brought you back to reality, you slid down to earth and turned to see Collins’ parents grinning at you, Andrew's face as red as his son’s.

“Drink first, then ye can get on tae tha business.” he chuckled.

“I've seen em, in the kitchen. Me Da still kisses her like it's the first time.”

“One day that will be us. You better be kissing me in our kitchen years from now.”

“Aye when I’m goin bald and me face is all lined and wrinkled. Ye’ll no wan tae have me all over ye.”

“Especially then, Jack Collins. Every day for the rest of our lives.”

“I think I can handle tha.” he laughed, taking your hand as you walked into the pub.

The shiver that ran down your spine was caused by the cold breeze, you were certain. Snuggling into your new husband for warmth you allowed yourself to simply enjoy him, love him and for the rest of the night you forgot the fact that there was still a war going on.

Reality would come soon enough.


	9. The Nearness of You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Collins and his girl are married, but their interlude away from the war is almost at an end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm slowly finding time to write again, hopefully I can keep it up. This chapter is NSFW, so enjoy.

WE’LL MEET AGAIN CHAPTER 9  
THE NEARNESS OF YOU

 

As soon as the patrons of the pub got wind of your marriage there was an immediate change in the atmosphere. A record player was found and music filled the small, dark space. The older men and women all came by to gush about how pretty you were, how handsome Collins was. He was saluted more times than you could count, bringing his father to tears. When it was discovered that Andrew Collins had fought in the trenches at the Somme in the last war, he was surrounded by a large group of veterans, the rest of the evening spent swapping stories.

Helen simply looked on with a wry smile and a shake of her head. She had told you how hard it had been for her when he was away fighting, how scared she had been until each letter arrived. And how lonely it was, with the man she loved off fighting when all she could do was stay home and wait. That she understood how you felt was comforting, in fact you realised that you had it better than she did. Collins was so close to you that you could see him far more often than she had been able to see her love. Not for the first time, you thought as you looked sideways at your new husband, you were incredibly lucky.

“Care tae dance wi’ me Mrs Collins?” His hand enveloped yours as he pulled you to stand, his arm sliding smoothly around your waist to hold you close.

He leaned down, resting the side of his face against the side of yours, threading your fingers through his. You swayed together as the music began, smiling against his skin as you recognized the song, Violet had the record at home. Leaning further into him your head fell down on his shoulder, his arm sliding up your back till his hand cupped the back of your neck, holding you closer. His smell enveloped you, and a warm rush of affection rose up inside you, you heard his voice singing softly in your ear.

Do I want to be with you  
As the years come and go?  
Only forever  
If you care to know

Would I grant all your wishes  
And be proud of the task?  
Only forever  
If someone should ask

How long would it take me  
To be near if you beckoned?  
Off hand I would figure  
Less than a second

Do you think I'll remember  
How you looked when you smile?  
Only forever  
That's puttin' it mild

How long would it take me  
To be near if you beckoned?  
Off hand I would figure  
Less than a second

Do you think I'll remember  
How you looked when you smile?  
Only forever  
That's puttin' it mild

“I have never loved anything as much as I love you.” you whispered against his neck as the song ended.

His chest rose under your cheek as he took a deep breath, his fingers leaving yours to tilt your chin up, tracing his knuckles over your cheek. Your fingers slid over his shoulder, up over his neck to drag gently against his jaw. A new song had started as you both swayed in your own world, everything else disappearing around you. Only he mattered, in this moment you were the only two people on earth. He smiled, gently before his lips glided across yours in a kiss that was breathtaking in its tenderness. Your body pressed closer to his as his mouth opened over yours, tongue dragging across your lips, his fingers gripping the back of your neck.

A round of cheers broke into the fog surrounding you and Jack pulled back with an embarrassed smile, his cheeks flushing brightly as several men walked past, clapping him on the shoulder. You felt your cheeks heat up as they winked at you, retreating back to your seat beside Helen. Collins stepped over to the bar, lifting a pint to his mouth and winking at you over the rim, a heated promise in his deep blue eyes.

“Tha boy is so much like his father is no even funny.” Helen laughed, shaking her head as you blushed deeper. “His Da can still make me toes curl when he kisses me, and he does it often.”

“How long have you been married?”

“23 years this Christmas, we got married the day he came back from the War. Jack came almost three years later.”

“When did you know?”

“The moment I saw him.” Helen smiled, looking over at her husband fondly. “I were 17 and me Da took me tae a market. Andy was there with his Da, and he smiled at me, that was it. He was 18 and the War was still four years away. I would haf married him then but me parents said I was too young. We didnae know we would haf tae wait another eight years. I would haf waited fer him forever, though.”

You knew, you had known somehow the moment that you had seen Collins step off that boat that you loved him and it hadn’t taken much for you to know that you would wait for him forever. However long this awful war lasted, if it never ended, you would be waiting for him. 

No matter what.

It was late, you all closed down the pub, much to your dismay as you didn’t spend anywhere near as time with Jack as you wanted. But then, every second apart from him was too long, every moment that he wasn’t touching you was agony. In two days he would be gone, back to war, and you would be worrying about him, missing him. Selfishly you wanted him all to yourself, as much as you loved his parents and knew he needed time with them too, you still wanted all of him. Still, you held back, letting them talk in the parlour while you headed up the stairs.  
“Hold up there, Mrs Collins.” He took the stairs two at a time, pressing up against your back, fingers tangling in yours as he followed you. “Ye cannae ferget the most important bit.”

“And what would that be, Mr Collins?” you giggled as his teeth worried your neck. 

“This, ye wee silly thing.” He moved so quickly, swooping you up into his arms before you even had a chance to catch a breath. “It’s bad luck if I donnae carry ye over the threshold.”

“I thought that only counted if it was your own.” Your arms were around his neck as he pushed the door open.

“Then we’ll have a redo when we have our own home.”

Your heart clenched in dread momentarily, you wanted that, so much. Wanted a future and a life with him, outside this room, beyond all this hell.

He kicked the door closed behind him, grinning down at you as he dropped you to bounce on the bed.

“And a redo of this too.” he growled, looming over you, pressing your body into the mattress. 

“Lots and lots of them.” you murmured, lifting your head to meet his lips.

Smiling against your mouth, Collins wrapped his arms under your shoulders, cupping the back of your head with both hands, thumbs stroking the based skin of your neck. His tongue scraped against yours, opening you up, hips moving gently where your legs were tangled together. The dull want that had sat in your belly all evening blossomed into a aching need as you tried to arch yourself against him, desperate for him now. 

“Easy, luv, we have all night.” his hands had loosened the pins holding your hair and his fingers tangled in the strands, spreading them out around your head. Chuckling when you shot him a dirty look, Collins latched onto your skin, sucking gently along your jawline, nipping gently as your fingers worked at the buttons of his blazer.

“Up.” He muttered, sliding back and off the bed to stand.

Confused you clambered to stand beside him, giggling when he spun you so he could unbutton the back of your dress.

“Ye look stunnin, but I cannae do this with ye in me ma's dress.” He slid it down, letting it puddle around your ankles before folding it gently onto the dresser. 

You kicked off your shoes while he was turned away, sliding down your stockings and looking up to see him leaning against the dresser, legs crossed. He'd removed his blazer and shirt, his bare feet curling into the carpet as he watched you. Your cheeks burned as his gaze swept from your head to your feet and back again, his tongue darting out to wet his bottom lip. His eyes flared as he caught your shiver, lips curling into a smile, fingers drumming on the wood behind him.

“Donnae stop on my account darlin.” his voice was rough, needy.

Swallowing hard, nervous and self conscious despite the intimacy you had already shared with him your fingers moved to the back of the dress. The buttons were fiddly and you almost asked for help before they finally gave and it slid off your shoulders to puddle on the floor. You folded it gently, placing it on a shelf before taking a deep breath. 

As you tried to turn, Jack's hands stilled you, brushing from shoulders to your fingers and back again, a little puff of a laugh escaping his lips as your skin responded to his light touch. 

“Have I mentioned how much I love it that yer skin does this every time I touch ye?” he whispered against your neck, pressing his mouth to the vein that pulsed there.

“Jack.” you sighed, as his fingers worked your slip off your shoulders.

“Yes, Mrs Collins?”

You giggled, his teeth finding a sensitive spot behind your ear.

“I’ll never get tired of hearing you say that.”

“Good, cause I'm never goin tae stop saying it.” He growled, deftly removing the rest of your clothing and his own, kicking it all to the side.

You reached for him, raising your arms so your fingers could tangle in his soft hair, his fingers tracing and swirling lightly over your bare skin. Fusing your mouth to his you at his hair, heart pounding in your chest as you breathed him in. You giggled as he hoisted you up, hands guiding your legs around his waist. Your whole body had broken into gooseflesh, an ache throbbing between your thighs where he pressed hot against you.

You would never get tired of this, you thought blissfully as Jack lowered you down onto the quilt gently. You kept your legs wrapped around him as he nipped at your bottom lip, smiling down at you when you shivered against him.

“Ye aren't cold are ye, lass?” he chuckled softly, lips gliding along your collarbone. 

Shaking your head, you smoothed your fingers down his back, careful not to press too hard where the bruises still marred his skin. He shivered himself when your fingertips darted along the sides of his hips, his body rolling against yours.

“Jack!” your neck arched when his mouth closed over your breast, tugging and sucking your nipple onto the rough, wet heat of his tongue.

Arrows of heat shot through your body, converging between your thighs. Desperately you arched your hips against him, your body aching. It wasn't just instinct, the need to feel him inside you. It was that moment, that knowledge in your heart that in that act you were the closest, physically, that two people could ever be. You claimed him, your body gripped tight around him, he was yours, you were his and you were complete.

That, and it just felt good. Until Jack Collins had taken you to bed you'd never even thought of yourself as a sexual person. The few times you'd been kissed had left you feeling cold and uninterested and when the other women at the boarding house had discussed their experiences you'd been embarrassed. You couldn't imagine doing any of it, or even wanting to.

Until Jack.

Now, your naked body arching into his, his fingers touching you in places you'd never imagined, now you knew why poets wrote about physical love with such intensity. You could never have imagined the level of need you could have to touch and be touched by another person.

An involuntary cry left your throat when his head moved between your legs, his palms pushing your thighs wide apart, fingers opening you for his tongue. Your own fingers gripped at the quilt, you head thrashing from side to side as Collins’ mouth worked away at you. Sparks seemed to explode behind your eyelids as your hips pushed against his tongue, your body desperately seeking more.

“God, Jack, please!” You begged, the muscles of your thighs quivering.

You wanted the feeling of him buried deep inside you when you peaked, your body didn't want slow and thorough, but something more, something you didn't know how to express.

Bright blue eyes looked up at you, gleaming with want.

“What do ye need, love?” he asked, his voice low and rough.

“You. Need you.” you ground out when his tongue swiped against you again. “Please.”

Collins pulled away from you suddenly, standing at the side of the bed, eyes raking over your body with a naked lust that made you gulp in anticipation. Knowing you were watching him he moved to the night table, pulling out a condom. Your whole body was protesting the loss of his touch, senses firing as you watched him stand in front of you, shameless and beautiful.

When he brought the small package to his teeth, tearing it open, you felt a rush of something. Desire, anticipation, pride all fought for dominance as you allowed yourself to appreciate the man before you. The fact that he was yours, that his body was taut and hard with want for you. A possessive wave of heat flowed over you.

Your hand reached out before you even knew it was moving. The rough blonde hair of his thigh tickled your palm, his hard muscles twitching under your touch. His breath hitched in his chest as you scraped your fingernails up the inside of his thigh, his eyes never leaving yours. He groaned low in his throat, watching you rise up to kneel in front of him, your hand cupping between his legs.

“God!” he blew out from between gritted teeth, his body rolling against your palm.

Without warning his fingers were in your hair, yanking you toward him, his tongue filling your mouth. His hard kiss bruised your lips while you bit at his, your fingers moving to wrap the hard length of him, loving the way he groaned into your mouth as you stroked and caressed.

Pulling away he pressed the condom into your free palm, grinning when your eyes widened slightly.

“I’ll help ye.” He grunted, your fingers tightening around him.

“I don't want to hurt you.” you admitted, working at the rubber with trembling fingers.

“The only thing hurtin me right now is that I'm no inside ye.” He muttered, guiding your hands.

You felt his eyes on you as you watched your joined fingers. Cheeks flushed with more than just lust, you carefully followed his coaxing, sliding the thin material down his length, his hips bucking slightly.

You kissed him again, your fingers running over his sweat dampened torso, revelling in the frantic drumming of his heart and the rapid rise and fall of his chest. He held you tight against him for a moment.

“I wantye on yer hands and knees.” He growled against your neck.

A shocked shudder ran through you, your breath stopping. His hands on your hips helped you turn away as he climbed up onto the bed. When you faced the iron headboard he slid his hands up your sides to your shoulders. With gentle fingers he moved your hair to one side before his palm flattened between your shoulder blades, firmly pushing your body forward until you were where he wanted.

He was behind you, you could feel the heat of his body against the back of your thighs as he eased your knees apart with his own. Jack's fingers roamed over your back and rear, gently stroking your skin until you were shuddering and sighing, aching for him even more, despite the unfamiliarity of your position.

You jumped when his fingers moved between your legs, spreading you wide.

“Easy love,” he murmured. “Trust me, yet goin tae love this.”

The breath left your body in a whoosh as he slowly pressed inside you, finally stretching and filling the way your body craved. Your arms shook as the new sensation overwhelmed you. Each slide of his body brought him deeper inside you than you'd ever imagined possible. You could never have described how good he felt like this.

Jack's body lowered over your back, skin against skin as he moved gently, infuriatingly slow. His breath was hot and loud in your ear, one hand clasped around the headboard, the other tracing patterns over your stomach as you quieted and panted.

It was too much but not nearly enough and you whimpered as he smoothly moved inside you.

“Do ye like this?”

“Yes!” You managed to pant out, his fingers teasing your nipple, shooting heat straight between your thighs where your muscles tightened around him.

Collins moaned in your ear, your hips instinctively pushing back against him, desperate for something more. Your arms weakened, your upper body falling falling forward onto your elbows, changing the angle of his movements. A low groan escaped you, matched to his breathless grunts in your hair.

“Jack, please!” You didn't even know what you were asking for, just that you needed it.

His hot mouth trailed over your shoulders and the back of your neck, his palm sliding down your spine to rest on your hip. Rising up, he coaxed your legs open wider, holding you still with his hand on your hip. He pulled almost all the way out of your body, leaving you gasping at his absence.

“I know love, I know what ye need.” He growled, his grip on your hips firm. “Jus relax baby, I've got ye.”

“Oh my God!” You cried out as he moved, thrusting inside of you, deeper and harder than you'd ever felt before.

Unlike every other time you and Collins had made lobe, this was primal, pure lust. His hands held your hips so tightly you were certain he would leave marks. Every pounding jerk of his body into yours brought more pleasure than you'd ever dreamed.

“I'm no hurtin ye am I?” he grunted between groans, his body stilling for a moment.

You were on fire, the pressure between your legs almost unbearable. It felt incredible.

“I'm fine, don't stop Jack, please.” you begged, squirming on your knees, needing him to move again.

His self satisfied chuckle made your hair stand on end and he groaned as you shivered, pushing your body back against him. He leaned over you again, bracing himself on the headboard beside your head. His free hand snaked around your waist, nails dragging against your damp skin until he found the spot between your thighs where all your desire had pooled.

You wanted to scream as his fingers pressed and rubbed against you, his body pounding into yours, hard enough to make the bed springs creak and groan. Your fingers grasped at the quilt, teeth clenched against the fabric to drown out your cries. Sparks shot shot through your whole body, every grunt and mutter from Collins above and behind urging you higher and higher. 

He wasn't making love to you, this was pure pleasure and you loved it. You loved the decadent feeling of simply being taken, the loud slap of his skin against yours, the way he muttered under his breath.

“Fuck. Ye feel so fucking good.”

The pressure building from deep inside you was almost too much, you were almost sobbing as you writhed, your whole body shaking.

“ So close. Ye’re so close love. Jus let go fer me, there's a good girl.”

His voice was a hard pant in your ear as his body and fingers manipulated you to the very edge. You were as taut as a bowstring, a flood of warmth stretching through you, pulling and pulling from between your legs. A shudder started, deep inside you and you buried your face in the pillow, screaming as everything seemed to break at once. Muscles quivered and rippled, your body shaking as waves of pure pleasure rushed through you.

Jack groaned as your inner muscles clamped and undulated around him, his hips moving erratically until, with one hard thrust he collapsed on to you, twitching and panting. His voice was breathless in your ear as you came back down to his words of love and adoration. He was heavy on top of you, but you didn’t care, content to be enveloped by him. Your heart beat only for him.

In all your imaginings you had never thought it was possible to love someone this much. There were no words you could even use to describe the emotion you possessed for Jack Collins. A tear slid down your cheek as you, for a tiny second, allowed the reality of your lives to intrude. You were in a war and he was in constant danger. The possibility of never feeling his touch again was a very real one and you honestly didn’t think you could live through it.

“Y/N, what’s wrong? Did I hurt ye?” Jack’s voice was panicked as he moved off you, his fingers sweeping the damp hair of your brow.

“No, you didn’t hurt me at all.” You reached out with a rubbery arm to cup his cheek. “I just love you.” your voice cracked a bit as he nuzzled into your touch.

He smiled gently, fingers wiping away your tears.

“I love ye too Mrs Collins. I never even thought this would happen tae me. I’m so happy ye came tae me.”  
Much later, in the cold predawn, you snuggled closer to your sleeping husband, resting your head on his chest so you could hear the even beating of his heart. You shivered as the far away drone of an aircraft flying over pierced the silence. Instinctively, Collins’ arms wrapped tightly around you, his warm breaths wafting over the top of your head.

He didn’t protest when you woke him up, your fingers and mouth exploring every inch of skin, committing him to memory. When he pulled you onto him, hands on your hips as you took him, your fingers mapping the lines of his face in the dark.

Tomorrow was the last day before he had to report back to duty and you vowed you would make it a happy one. He deserved it, and so did you. But for now, as he cuddled in behind you, his lips brushing gently over your bare shoulder, your exhausted bodies drifting back off to sleep, you were glad of the dark.

Glad that he couldn’t see you crying.


	10. It Hurts to Say Goodbye

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The honeymoon is over and it's back to reality.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a much shorter chapter than usual, the next few are going to be from varying points of view so this seemed the logical place to stop before that happened.

WE’LL MEET AGAIN 10  
IT HURTS TO SAY GOODBYE

 

There wasn’t a single goodbye in your life that had been easy. Starting with your parents, you’d spent the past decade saying goodbye in one way or another to everyone you loved. You didn’t want to do it again, not ever.

But if there was anything that the war had taught you, it was that life rarely worked the way you wanted it to, and goodbyes were par for that course. You’d said a tearful goodbye to Jack’s parents that morning, a tearful interlude at the railway station. Here were two people that you’d only known for a couple of days and yet you loved them already. Telling them farewell had been hard, but harder for Collins. Everyone openly wept as his mother hugged him and his father, with tears in his eyes told his only child how proud he was of him.

It was a scene played out every minute of the day across the Continent, parents sending their sons off to war, their pride clashing with their fear that their child would never come home again. Even knowing that you would be writing to them and living by them when it was all over, it was still hard. You and Jack walked back to the B&B silently, hand in hand after waving the train off, lost in your thoughts and neither one of you wanting to address the elephant in the room.

He had to report back tomorrow.

The honeymoon was over and reality was just waiting to take back your happiness. You didn’t know how you were going to have the strength to say goodbye to him. Every part of you already missed him, even though he stood right next to you.You had to be strong for him though, he was the one going back to that horror, the constant danger, the pressure to defend his country. He didn’t need to take your sorrow with him, only your strength and your love to keep him safe.

The moment the door to your room closed, Collins spun you, his mouth on yours before you could even yelp. The kiss was bruising, his teeth biting at your lips as he pushed you back against the door, yanking your coat off and tossing it aside. Something wild had taken over the both of you, you kissed him back just as passionately, fingers tugging at his hair as he hauled your body up, your legs around his waist.

“Now.” he growled, undoing his trousers as he held you against the door. “I haf tae have ye now.”

The throbbing between your thighs agreed, your neck arching back as he pushed your knickers aside, dragging his fingers along the center of you.

“God Jack!” you agreed as you felt him positioned at your entrance.

You were desperate to feel him inside of you, writhing against him where you were pinned to the wall. Collins’ fingers held your hip tightly, his thumb brushing across your bruised lips. Holding his gaze you sucked it into your mouth, revelling in his groan as you slid your tongue over the pad of it.

One hard jerk of his hips and he was there, buried so deep that you couldn’t tell where he ended and you began. You clenched around him, feeling the throb to match your own, the desperate need for more.

“Please Jack,” you begged, sliding your hands down, under his trousers to clutch at his rear, trying to pull him closer. “Please, just have me.”

His teeth nibbled at your jaw as he drew out slowly, leaving you panting and gasping. His bright blue eyes sought yours, gripping you in his hard gaze as he surged forward, slamming into you with such force that your whole body banged against the door. The noise didn’t bother you, nor did either of you worry about who might hear. He took you, hard and fast against the door, your thighs shaking around his hips as he pushed into you over and over.

You saw stars when you came, your muscles spasming around him as you cried out, his movements not slowing until, with several hard, deep thrusts he let out a roar, emptying himself inside of you. Sweat sheened on you both as Collins kissed you gently, his hands smoothing your hair, cupping your cheeks, hips rocking as he shuddered.

“I love ye.” he whispered over and over, punctuating every kiss with another declaration.

It was all you could do to to keep the tears stinging behind your eyelids from spilling down your cheeks. Instead you wrapped your arms tightly around his shoulders, never wanting to let him go.

“I love you too, Jack.”

Throughout the night you came together, over and over, neither of you wanting to sleep even a moment of your last hours together. The pale dawn light as the sun rose was an affront, the day a villain whose only goal was to separate you from Collins. You wanted to ignore it, to deny that the morning had come.

You snuggled closer to Jack, fingers tracing patterns on his chest as his stroked up and down your arm. Neither of you wanted to break the spell.

Eventually he sighed, the moment was over and it was time to face reality again.

“We haf tae get ready tae leave.”

You nodded, your throat constricting, not wanting him to see your pain. Jack’s jaw ticked and clenched, his eyes as grim as yours. Finally he moved, pressing his lips to your shoulder before sliding out of bed to walk, naked, to the bathroom door.

“Are ye comin?” he grinned as you flung back the covers, climbing over the bed to join him.

You took the longest shower you could, gently washing one another under the lukewarm water. Collins rested his head against yours as you soaped his hair, wrapping his arms around your waist as the water ran over you both. The tears you’d been holding back ran freely, disguised by the water, your hands stroking his back as you fought against letting him go. He was quiet as he shut off the water, wrapping a towel under your arms as you dried his hair, your fingers playing with his beard.

“Tha’s gonna haf tae go I’m afraid lass.” He looked at you ruefully as you frowned, you rather liked him with the beard.

“Let me do it then.” You nodded, gathering up his straight razor and cream.

Collins looked bemused as you hopped up on the vanity beside the sink, expertly sharpening the razor’s edge on the leather strap.

“Come on then,” you beckoned him over, laughing at the slightly fearful look on his face. “I'm not going to cut up your pretty face.”

He smiled wryly, stepping up to you and between your knees so you could reach. His eyes closed briefly as you smoothed the cream over his jaw and neck, his knuckles smoothing up and down your thighs. He tried to hide it but he flinched when you made the first drag over his skin, washing the razor off in the sink before applying it again.

His eyes opened, watching as you bit your lip in concentration, the sharp blade gliding across his skin.

“Where did he learn tae do tha Y/N?”

You cleaned the blade again, not meeting his eyes as you titled his chin up.

“Sometimes at the hospital, all the boys want is a clean face. I can't take their pain away or fix what's wrong, but I can at least do that for them.”

You didn't mention that many times those boys were corpses and all you could do was make what was left of them more presentable before their bodies were shipped back to their families. The last thing Collins needed to worry about was the death and dismemberment that surrounded you daily. For now, at least, that your burden to bear.

“Promise me ye’ll still do this wi' me when we're old.” He sighed.

“Only if you help my old bones up onto the vanity.” You laughed, wiping his now smooth face with a wet flannel. “There you go, your superiors can't complain about you being scruffy anymore.”

“Ye do a better job than the barber on base, lass. Ye should be gettin payment fer yer services.”

You giggled, the idea was ridiculous, at least until Jack pushed your thighs open wide and knelt down.

The whole town likely heard you screaming his name.

Neither of you spoke much on the drive back to London, you spent it nestled under his one arm, your arms around his waist. He drove much slower, the eagerness of the trip down to Cornwall gone. All that waited for you at the end of this trip was separation and danger.

How long would this awful war go on for?

You tried not to cry as the pulled up to the boarding house, the familiar smell of smoke as always thick in the London air. Collins fussed, making sure you had a copy of the marriage certificate, telling you he would inform his higher ups as soon as he got back so that you could access his pay.

“Jack, I don't want your pay…” you tried to brush it off but he stopped you with a kiss.

“Yer ma wife, it's yers if ye want it.” He paused, flattening his palm over your lower belly. “Ye may haf need of it ye ken?”

You did, he was referring to the baby that you had probably made. After that first slip you had been less than careful, though this was the first time that the possibility had been brought up again. Your hand covered his, lips brushing against his jaw.

“If I have need.” You acquiesced, finally earning you a beaming smile from your husband.

“Thas ma gurul.” His face turned serious again. “I'll no haf leave fer a bit, maybe at Christmas but I canna promise.”

“I'll be here waiting.” You promised, your shaking hands covering his. “Whatever day you come home.”

“I like tha, commin home tae ye. Promise me ye’ll write tae me every day.”

“I will.”

The tears came and Collins wipes them away with his fingers, then his lips as they brushed across your face.

“Ah lass, donna cry, I'll be back before ye know it.” His voice was tight, trying to convince himself as well as you.

You both knew there was an equal chance of never seeing one another again after this moment.

Jack wrapped his arms around you, holding you close as you wept against his chest. You had tried, so hard, but you couldn't hide it from him.

“I love you so much.” You sniffled against his jacket.

He leaned back, cupping your cheeks in his hands, his eyes soft and sad.

“And I love ye Y/N. No matter what happens jus know tha. Ye’ve made me happy, ye’ve given me the most precious and wonderful time o ma life. Jus always remember tha.”

He kissed you, long and slow and you pushed all the love you had into kissing him back, committing every detail to memory. Cataloguing the width of his shoulders, the smooth length of his neck, even the little that sat above his top lip. All stored away for the long and lonely nights ahead.

You managed to stand tall, your knees shaking as you waved him goodbye. Waiting until the car and Collins were out of sight before collapsing into a weeping mess as Della, Dolores and Violet held you tight.

Please God, please just bring him back to me!

The words repeated like a litany in your brain, even as the bombs fell again and the sirens shrieked.

And as you finally fell asleep in the cold light of dawn you were still repeating them.


	11. Letters Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A series of letters keep Collins and his wife in touch while he is away at war.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I started this chapter half a dozen times and suddenly today it just happened. I haven't been feeling like I could do Collins justice lately so I hope this is alright.
> 
> Also trigger warnings for this chapter: mentions of suicide, battle, bombs, death, PTSD and Holocaust

London, Nov 15 1940

Dearest Jack,

I know that you would not have yet received my last letter, but the Post is so unreliable now that I must write and send when I can.

London continues to be bombarded by the Germans, the blackouts continue and we spend each night in the shelters. Some nights it seems as though the whole city is on fire and all we can hear is the wail of the sirens and the bomb blasts. And the people screaming. I’m sad to say that there is a great deal of looting going on - perpetrated by both desperate citizens and those looking to profit from this horror. The girls and I only leave home in a group and Violet somehow managed to obtain a pistol so we are as safe as we can be.

I can only hope this all ends soon, even knowing that it can’t. Churchill will never bow down to Hitler and I am glad of it, especially if the rumors we are hearing from the Continent are true. Those poor people, to be pushed from their homes and treated so appallingly simply because of their race or religion. I simply cannot wrap my head around such hatred. Dolores’s husband has been promoted within the War office, something to do with counter-intelligence and he believes that despite our most valiant efforts the war will continue for some time yet.

Not a moment goes by when I am not thinking about you and our future together, Jack, I miss you so much it hurts. It seems so unfair to have the happiness we knew in Cornwall be ripped away so cruelly. I know that ours is not an unusual circumstance, that we are just one of so many couples, families who are apart and scared, I do try to remember that and know that we are among the lucky ones.

I’m sorry for the gloom, today we were working at the factory and one of the older ladies didn’t come in. Violet and I went to check on her and she was dead, just laying on the bed in her best dress. She had taken pills, Jack, it was awful. In her hands was a photo of her with her husband and son, both of them were killed only days ago and she received the telegrams yesterday. I can’t even imagine the grief that led to such a desperate act, but she must have wanted nothing more than to end her pain and perhaps be reunited with those she loved. We did the best we could for her, we hid the pills and the telegrams and called the priest. Violet says that it wasn’t a sin to make sure that she got a Christian burial, and that since God had allowed this horror he had best be prepared to forgive.  
You know I don’t believe in God, especially now, but it seemed the right thing to do. Tomorrow we will all go to the church and see it done, she deserves someone to mourn her.

There were Spitfires in the sky just now, where you one of them? I sat in the window and watched them, feeling so close to you for a moment. Every time I get scared I imagine you up there somewhere, protecting us, and even though I don’t feel any less afraid I feel less alone. I hope you know that wherever you are at any moment, that you are never alone. I am always with you.

The Post is coming. I love you.

Always Y/N

 

RAF UXBRIDGE   
Nov 29 1940

My Dearest Wife,

I love calling you that. I received both your letters today, no doubt the Post is a mess but as long as we still have a semblance of it then there is hope for Britain. If we run out of tea however, then all hope is lost. The boys and I have adopted a superstition, we hide small bags of tea in our bunks and around the barracks. Silly I know, but we somehow feel as though as long as there is even one tea bag left in the whole Isle then we can win this war.

That was me in the sky that day and it seems rather esoteric but I swear I did feel as though you were close. Maybe it’s just wistful thinking on my part but as long as I have your picture close to my heart I feel as though nothing can happen to me. That’s not to say that I’m taking chances however, I can see your face as I write this, I do try to keep as safe as I can. I will make it home to you Y?N, and not just for Christmas leave. When this is all over then nothing will keep us apart.

I got a letter from Mum, you should be getting one too, her and Da said there’s a cottage in the village for sale. It’s small and needs work but it's close to the farm. If you agree I’ll tell them to buy it for us. I know we talked about our own cottage on the farm, but at least in the village we wouldn’t be so isolated.

My only wish now is for this war to end so we can be together. I want nothing more than to be sitting by the fire on this cold night, silence around us and you in my arms. It is my every waking thought and my dreams when I sleep. I miss waking up next to you and feeling the tickle of your hair on my face, the warmth of your skin. Just the thought of your smile makes me long for you, to touch you. Our life together is just beginning and even though some days it seems like a far off dream it gets me through. You, my love, you give me hope.

I think Violet had the right idea and I’m in awe of the strength of you both in doing what you did. Few could, or would have cared enough. I also agree that God, if indeed he exists, would welcome your friend with open arms after all that was taken from her.

There’s so much loss, so many dying and for what? So a madman can try to conquer the world? Funny how the men who start wars never seem to fight in them, at least not any longer. They send us to die for their cause, for their love of power. In the last week we have lost five men, which isn’t a large number to the higher ups, but it’s five lives that will never be lived, children never born and women never loved. The day we become immune to this horror is the day we lose our humanity.

We have heard the rumors coming out of Europe too, there are some Poles flying with us who managed to get out in time and the stories they tell would curdle your blood. The Nazis indeed are rounding up Jews and forcing them into ghettos, there’s even some talk of camps. They are work camps, or so the Nazis say but I fear something far worse. One would hope that the nations of the world would try to intervene, to help as many of the refugees attempting to escape as they can, because it’s terrifying to think that we can sit back and allow this to happen.

Some days it feels as though the world is ending Y/N and I can’t imagine a recovery from this.

If I didn’t have you I don’t know how I would get through this, I need you to know that. That no matter what happens, you have saved me.

Forever your husband  
Jack

 

LONDON  
Dec 5 1940

My Darling,

It will be Christmas in just a few weeks, then a new year. Some days I feel like I lose track of the passage of time and it wasn’t until I saw a tree in the rubble of a bookstore that I realised. Mr Dougherty, the sweet old man who owns it came in after the bomb hit and put it up, encouraging everyone who passed by to add a decoration from his box. Such a small thing but it felt like a fog had lifted. Many of us stayed there, helping him pack up the books that survived and someone started singing. We all held hands in the middle of all the wreckage and cried as we sang carols, many people walking by joined in too. For that small time there was such a feeling of hope in the air. I wish you could have been there Jack, more than just in my heart.

Mr Dougherty asked me to send you the enclosed charm, it was made by his mother during the Great War and he says that now it is infused with all the love and home of the day and will bring you luck.

I love the idea of a cottage in the village, I would live in this bomb shelter happily if it mean we were together. To be honest I’m almost afraid of it, as if somehow we are tempting fate, but we also need the promise of tomorrow. We need a home, a place for our family to grow, a place where we can be safe and happy when this is all done. I want to spend everyday with you for the rest of our lives jack. Promise me that when the war ends we will never spend another night apart, that you will be the first thing I see every morning until the day I die.

We all hope that 1941 will bring peace, but as you know it seems unlikely. I wonder how many people have to die, how much has to be lost before we see reason? You would think that the ‘War to end all wars’ would have taught humanity a lesson, but we have learned nothing. If anything, from what I’ve read about Hitler and his followers, we have only gotten worse. There’s so much hatred, so much waste that sometimes I feel that it would serve humanity right if we wiped ourselves out. Then there are moments like with the tree and I remember that as a whole, the human race is better than what we are seeing now.

The girls all send their love, Violet’s husband is home on leave and I’m about to go join them in cards before the sun sets and we return to our underground safety. He looks so much older than he did and his eyes are so sad, I can’t even imagine the horrors that he’s seen, that any of you have seen. Vi says that he has these terrible nightmares where he wakes up shaking, caught up in some terror that we cannot begin to understand. It makes my nightmares seem harmless in comparison, I know that I have experienced horror, but not as he has. It makes me scared for you Jack, makes me need to be there beside you, to hold you when it gets bad like that. The thought of you waking up alone with that terror fills me with such sadness that I almost cannot bear it.

I’m so afraid Jack, I know I’m strong, but I am scared still, I don’t think this feeling will go away until this ends and we are safe. However long that takes.

Stay safe my love, I only hope the few weeks before you can be here so so fast. I cannot wait to see you.

With all my love

Y/N Collins

 

RAF UXBRIDGE  
Dec 20 1940

Darling,

My heart leapt when I saw my name attached to yours, I realise that it’s horribly old fashioned of me to feel pride in that, but there you have it. Anything that proves to me that you are indeed mine and that I didn’t just dream the whole thing. I am the luckiest man in the world and I often think about how lost I would be if you hadn’t been there that awful night. I survived Dunkirk, but I wasn’t living, not until I met you. I loved you from the first moment I saw you and I know I am going to love you forever. My wife.

There’s a good chance that I will arrive before this letter does and I’m counting down the hours until those of us granted leave are able to actually take it. I do feel for the men remaining but I also know, in my squadron at least, that all the single men voted unanimously to allow those of us with families to go to them for Christmas if they were able. So many good men Y/N and many of them are Americans if you can imagine that. They volunteered to join us even though they could have stayed safe at home. Very brave, and very young as we all are, too young for this responsibility and too young to die so needlessly. But with that I guess comes the fearlessness of youth. I laugh at that thought, feeling like an old man even though I’m only 22, but experience ages you, just as it did for Vi’s Kenny. 

We go to war as young men, but we come home as old ones. If we come home at all.

I’m trying not to let it get to me, the fact that I can meet a guy one day, have a drink and the next day he is gone. I try not to think that one day that guy could be me. I don’t want to scare you any more than you already are but I think about it often, the odds are not in our favor, any of us and at any moment it could be over just like that. I can only hope that if my time does come that it will be quick and that I will face it with dignity. Also know that should I die, my last and happiest thought will be only of you, and I won’t regret it. We never would have met if not for this war so in that one small thing I am able to be grateful. I do hope so much that if I do lose my life, that you will not regret any of it either. If I were to die tomorrow at least I would die knowing I was loved and I hope you will always remember how much you are loved in return. 

It may not come to that and I refuse to dwell on those thoughts. Instead I allow myself to imagine the time after, your smile waiting for me at the end of each day. I imagine you scolding me for leaving my socks on the floor and going mad at me for teaching our child to climb too high in the tree. I’ve seen children, secret smiles over their heads at the dinner table and the joy of watching a person, made up of the best of us both, grow to be an adult. I’ve imagined still holding your hand across the table when our knuckles are swollen and gnarly and our faces are all wrinkled and still loving you as much in that moment as I do now. Perhaps even more as we will have a lifetime of memories and love behind us. 

I can’t wait to really begin.

I’ll see you soon my love

Your husband.


End file.
